


Seize My Heart

by oh_you_pretty_things



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff and Smut, Hiccstrid babies, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Life on Berk, Married Life, Miscarriage, Movie Spoilers, Pregnancy, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Dysfunction, Violence, War, difficult birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 51,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_you_pretty_things/pseuds/oh_you_pretty_things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was so persistent and his tenacity annoyed her. He was so clever and his innovation annoyed her. He wore his emotions on his face so openly and that annoyed her. But what annoyed her more than anything was how much she noticed him. A series of short vignettes about Astrid and Hiccup. HTTYD2 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She was five and he was six.

She was five and he was six. Her parents had been talking about it for days – the Chief was coming by to sup with them. It was a great honour, they told her.

“Astrid, be on your best behaviour,” her mother said.

“Astrid, you are a reflection on your family’s name,” her father said.

Then they talked in hushed tones about someone else. They said that this person, this _Hiccup_ was so small, so weak, so frail. They said that it was a shame. They said that maybe it would have been better for Stoick if Hiccup had been taken by the dragons. They said that death might have been a blessing in his case.

This kind of talk didn’t really bother Astrid. She’d heard them say it before. It was usually when someone was attacked by a dragon and was badly hurt. Maybe this Hiccup was deformed in some way – injured beyond repair. Maybe she should feel sorry for him.

When the Chief came for dinner that night, Astrid was ready for his deformed little boy. But the boy that Stoick brought was neither deformed nor injured. He was just a _boy._ He was smaller than some of the other boys, definitely smaller than Snotlout, but Astrid couldn’t see what was so bad about that. She was small, too. Smaller than this Hiccup.

Astrid was on her best behaviour through dinner. She watched Hiccup, expecting him to give away whatever it was that made him so regrettable. He ate in silence and watched everything. Astrid stared at him, but when his eyes met hers he looked away quickly. Was this his problem? That he was shy? Was being shy something to be ashamed of?

After dinner, her parents told her to show Hiccup her weapons collection. It wasn’t very big, but neither was she. She was proud of the three daggers that she had. She could throw them and hit a target easily.

“Hello, Hiccup,” she said.

“Hi, Astrid.”

“Do you want to throw a dagger?”

Hiccup frowned and shrugged. He tried three times and only once did the dagger almost stick in the target. Was this why he should have died? Astrid still didn’t understand. All she could see wrong with him was that he was small and maybe weak. It was the first time Astrid had wondered if being small was something to be ashamed of. It was the first time that she wondered if being weak was shameful, too. She decided that if she was small, she would have to be ten times as strong as everyone else. She’d have to make up for Hiccup.


	2. She was eight and he was nine.

She was eight and he was nine. It was well-established that Hiccup was different from the rest of them. He was definitely missing that warrior instinct. Astrid didn’t really mind though. Not everyone could be a warrior. Hiccup had started apprenticing with Gobber and that was no small feat. There weren’t a lot of Vikings in Berk who were clever and patient enough to work metal. Blacksmithing suited him, Astrid thought. Which was precisely why she didn’t understand what he was doing at weapons training.

He was awful with a dagger – never hitting the target. He could barely lift a sword and once he had it up, it was a hazard to everyone around him (including him). He couldn’t get an axe off the ground. He was useless with bola. And that was it – the rest of them had started calling him Hiccup the Useless.

Astrid didn’t like that. She didn’t think it fit. Hiccup wasn’t _useless_ in a general sense. He had a lot of good qualities. He was smart and resourceful. He knew how to make use of what he’d learned smithing to his advantage. He just wasn’t very…strong. Or even particularly fast. He definitely wasn’t big. But neither was Astrid and she’d managed to find a way around that. She chose weapons that she knew she could handle. She made sure all the muscles that she would need to use for those weapons were strong and able. She made use of her small size for evasion. She made sure she was faster than everyone else.

Hiccup seemed determined to use weapons that were too big for him. He tried to do things that he wasn’t meant to do. He was trying to be something that he wasn’t. Astrid found that frustrating. She wanted to march him up to a mirror and push him into it and say,

“This is who you are! You’re not meant to kill dragons!”

But Hiccup was Stoick’s son and there was no way she was going to push around the Chief’s son. There was no way she was going to get involved in any of it. She had something to prove and she needed to spend all her energy on that.


	3. She was twelve and he was thirteen.

She was twelve and he was thirteen. It was the third dragon attack that week. They’d lost so many people, so many homes. Astrid wanted to help. She was exceling so much with her weapon training. She was top of the class. She thought it was ridiculous that they wouldn’t let her fight. She should be fighting alongside her parents.

Astrid hadn’t seen her parents since last night, but this wasn’t the first time that had happened. It happened often. They had dragons to kill. They were fighting in a war that would never end. A war that one day she would also fight in.

Maybe today was that day.

The scream of a Night Fury plasma blast whistled through the air. She heard it hit. Night Furies never missed. There were screams in the village and she couldn’t wait anymore. She grabbed her battle axe and ran outside. It was chaos – burning houses, broken bodies, the air thick with terror. A Deadly Nadder turned and flew straight for her. She was ready for it, ready to throw her axe in its face. Ready to kill her first dragon.

It was so close and her heart was pounding, blood hammering in her ears. Then everything was sideways as she was thrown out of the way.

“Astrid! Get back inside!” her mother yelled at her as she climbed to her feet and turned to face the Nadder.

But her mother was too slow and the Nadder was too fast. Astrid screamed in fury and fear as the Nadder swiped at her mother with its claws. She watched her mother fall to the ground. She watched the Nadder leave. The wounds were too deep, too big. Astrid tried to stop the bleeding, tried to stop her own tears. Her mother’s last words to her were: The summer moments always pass quickly.

Astrid howled in grief. She picked up her battle axe and ran toward the nearest dragon. She couldn’t even see for her tears. She threw the axe at whatever it was that was in her way. She howled and raged and fought against whatever it was that was holding her now. It took her a while to realize that it was a person and not a dragon. It was a small person with green eyes. In them she saw pity and sadness and worry. She hated all of those emotions. She hated that this person could feel all these things when all she could feel was rage and hatred and misery. She hated that he had stopped her from being killed by dragons. Her mother was dead and Hiccup had stopped her from joining her.

She glared at him. “I hate you,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

She regretted it as soon as she said it. She hadn’t meant it. She had never hated Hiccup. But a Viking doesn’t take back her words. And even when his hands fell away from her and his eyes filled with hurt, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. A Viking never apologizes.

 


	4. She was thirteen and he was fourteen.

She was thirteen and he was fourteen. She didn’t talk to him anymore, not that she ever had at any great length in the past. He was small and weak and foolish. He still tried to do weapons training even though there were toddlers who could do more than he could. It didn’t make sense to her, really. He _made_ weapons. He should be able to lift them, use them, master them. It was as though he was lacking something fundamentally _Viking_ in his heart.

He kept trying to be something he wasn’t and that annoyed her.

He was so persistent and his tenacity annoyed her.

He was so clever and his innovation annoyed her.

He wore his emotions on his face so openly and that annoyed her.

He gave up so easily and that annoyed her.

But what annoyed her more than anything was how much she noticed him.

The scar on his chin, faint and fine, that had been there for as long as she could remember. The freckles that dotted his nose. The lopsided way that he smiled. The stubborn set of his eyebrows when he decided that he was going to do something regardless of his ability. The way he stared off at nothing when he was coming up with an idea. The way he moved his small body – deceptively agile despite everything against him. The gracious way he accepted defeat.

What annoyed her more than anything was the fact that she noticed him at all.


	5. She was fourteen and he was fifteen.

She was fourteen and he was fifteen. It started the night he’d claimed he’d shot down a Night Fury. The whole town had laughed. Snotlout, Ruffnut and Tuffnut had mocked him. But Astrid had wondered. Hiccup was stubborn, determined, bull-headed and clever. He was prone to making mistakes. He was not prone to lying. She didn’t want to believe that he was lying. It didn’t suit him. But with no evidence, no one could believe that Hiccup had shot down a Night Fury. Maybe if he had chosen some other dragon – a Gronckle, maybe – people might be more inclined to believe him. Astrid might be more inclined to believe him.

 

Then he’d joined dragon training. It had annoyed Astrid in so many ways; she could list them all.

1)      He was trying to be something he wasn’t. Again.

2)      He didn’t seem to be taking it very seriously.

3)      He kept putting himself in danger unnecessarily.

4)      Which put everyone else in danger unnecessarily.

5)      She had to see him every day.

Really it was the fifth annoyance that was her greatest annoyance. He was still small and not very good with his weaponry. He was still stubborn and thoughtful and clever. She still noticed him more than she should. Even though her focus was on being the best – the _very_ best – she couldn’t help but be aware of him. She couldn’t help but notice when he was in trouble. She couldn’t help but get tangled up in his trouble.

The last straw was when she fell on top of him in training. She heard Tuffnut say, “Ooh, love on the battlefield” and that was it. She was angry, so very angry. At Hiccup. At Tuffnut. At the Deadly Nadder that was trying to kill them. At everything and everyone. She couldn`t get her axe out of Hiccup’s shield, so she swung the entire mass at the dragon. She didn’t miss. She never missed. Then she turned, axe still in hand and shoved it in Hiccup’s face.

“Is this some kind of joke to you? Our parents’ war is about to become ours. Figure out which side you’re on.”

She turned before she had a chance to see the hurt in his eyes, before she had a chance to regret losing her temper with him. Again. Hiccup was without a doubt the most frustrating boy she’d ever met. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t just stay inside and stay safe. Did he have a death wish?

 

Then she was sure he did because he had a _pet_ dragon. He was riding a _dragon._ And he was hanging her from a tree. There were so many things wrong with this scenario that she wouldn’t even know where to begin. But he hadn’t given her a choice. She’d had to begin with hanging on to him for dear life.

She’d opened her eyes once the flying seemed to even out and everything about what she was experiencing was _amazing._ She was soaring in the air, given a perspective she’d never had before. She was riding on a dragon. A Night Fury. The Night Fury that Hiccup had shot down. She felt so many things then, soaring in the air with her body pressed into Hiccup’s thin back. She was glad he wasn’t a liar. She was relieved that this was why he was so good with the dragons in dragon training. She was amazed at what he had done and wanted to know how he had done it. She was also surprised that Hiccup’s body wasn’t as soft and scrawny as she might have assumed. He was a blacksmith, of course. He was small, of course.

He was Hiccup, of course.

 

When she saw him falling, falling, falling – when she saw Toothless falling, falling, falling – she had fallen, too. It was a dark place she had fallen into. It was a place without Hiccup. A place without the determination in his green, green eyes. It was a place without his laugh and voice and wry humour. It was a place she didn’t even want to think about.

Because she didn’t want to be without him.

Because she didn’t want to lose another person from her life.

Because she was just starting to realize how special Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was.

Because, because, because.

The sight of Stoick on his knees brought her to her knees. She couldn’t show that, of course. She couldn’t fall down weeping in the sand. She vowed never to cry again after she’d lost her mother. But she wanted to scream and rage and throw herself into the sand. She wanted to howl at the gods. How could they take him from her when she had only just found him?

But there he was, wrapped in the wings of the Night Fury. Well, most of him. It was practically a Viking rite of passage to lose a limb, wasn’t it? There it was – Hiccup had beaten her to that, too. Her heart had stretched up and exploded in her chest. She couldn’t show that either, but she was having a hard time thinking of a time when she’d been happier than she was now. She couldn’t think of it. It didn’t exist.

 

When she saw him standing there, surrounded by townsfolk, looking very much alive, she felt as though her heart might actually burst. She felt as though this time she might die for sure. It pounded so uncomfortably in her chest. She felt so light and giddy. She didn’t really know what to do, so she punched him in the arm.

“That’s for scaring me,” she heard herself say.

Hiccup winced and grabbed his arm. “Oh, wha- wait, what is it always going to be this way? ‘Cause…”

She didn’t know why, but she just wanted to silence him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to show him how much he’d scared her. She wanted to know what it felt like, at least this once. So she did. She kissed him. And it was glorious and wonderful and right. And she wasn’t sorry at all.

“…I could get used to it,” he said when she let him go.

Astrid smiled and Hiccup smiled and she knew what it was that made her happier than just seeing him alive.

 


	6. She was sixteen and he was seventeen.

She was sixteen and he was seventeen. They’d flown as far out as they dared. She was glad that he’d brought her with him. She was glad that it was just her and not the others. It was comfortable this way. It made her happy, the easy silence between them. It felt right, the way they could work together.

Astrid followed his lead and landed Stormfly on a cliff. Hiccup climbed off of Toothless and patted the dragon absently. She loved the way he did that. It was as natural and necessary as breathing to him. Toothless was an extension of Hiccup; Hiccup was an extension of Toothless.

“Astrid, I wanted you to see this,” Hiccup said, his voice quiet.

She walked up beside him and followed his gaze. The sun was setting behind a cliff in the distance and its rays danced orange and red and yellow on the ocean’s surface. It was like dragonfire in a starry sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

She felt Hiccup watching her profile and glanced at him. It was strange to stand next to him and to feel all his focus locked on her. It wasn’t the first time. She doubted it would be the last time. But it wasn’t something she always got from him. Most of the time he was thinking of the next thing and the next thing after that and maybe the next thing after that. Most of the time he was thinking about how he could help someone out of a bind and then who he could help next. Right now, he was looking at her and it made her want to punch his arm and hide behind Stormfly to cover up her embarrassment.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

His eyes widened as though he hadn’t expected to say that. Astrid half-expected him to try to backpedal out of his words. She thought she’d have to make a move again – grab him and kiss him and not let him back away. But he surprised her when his disbelief melted away and he kept looking at her. He leaned in, his eyes falling to her lips, and then he kissed her.

_He_ kissed _her_.

It was different from the other times, the times when she had kissed him. It was different because Hiccup was in control, because Hiccup’s hand had slid up into her hair at the base of her neck, because Hiccup wasn’t letting _her_ go.

When they broke apart, she could see the mild anxiety in his eyes. She fought the urge to punch him in the shoulder in embarrassment. She fought the urge to look away. Astrid realized that she liked him looking at her. She liked the way he was looking at her. She liked that he wasn’t apologizing for anything. She never wanted him to apologize for anything again.

Astrid couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. She didn’t want to because Hiccup’s mouth echoed hers and his smile was worth everything she had and more.


	7. She was eighteen and he was eighteen.

She was eighteen and he was eighteen. It was Astrid’s birthday and she knew what she wanted. It wasn’t going to be easy, not with Hiccup being _Hiccup_ , but she was going to try. And she was going to succeed. She’d told him to meet her here, at their place on that cliff, overlooking the sunset that looked like dragonfire. She’d told him to come alone. He’d looked at her as though she were insane.

“What? You don’t want Snotlout there?” he’d asked, eyebrow cocked.

She’d wanted to hit him, just a little. It was the nerves, of course. She hadn’t hit him in a long time and whenever she tried, he was quick to catch her fist in his hand. He’d grown so much over the last couple of years. He was almost as tall as Stoick now. He was still thin, still lithe, still Hiccup. He was just a taller version with more definition in his jaw, even more determination in his eyes. His confidence was higher and that made people trust in him more; it made them follow his lead. She could see the man he was becoming and she liked it. She more than liked it. She’d fallen in love with him.

Or maybe she’d always been in love with him.

Astrid heard the quiet flutter of Toothless’ wings behind her. She didn’t turn, she couldn’t. Her heart was pounding too much.

“Well, that was a flight to remember,” Hiccup said, his voice cutting into the silence of the night.

“Oh yeah? What happened?” she asked. Her voice was flat with nerves.

Hiccup sat next to him and she was overwhelmed by the familiar scent of him – leather and metal and seabreeze. “There was a flock of Terrible Terrors that came out of nowhere. Toothless got some practice on his evasive manoeuvres with that, didn’t ya, bud?”

Astrid didn’t say anything. She swallowed so hard she was sure he could hear her. In fact, he must have because she could feel Hiccup watching her.

“Astrid?”

“Mmhmm,” she replied without turning her head.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, smiling too widely and still not looking at him.

Hiccup was watching her still but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, not yet. He was too much, Hiccup. And her heart was so full.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Hiccup said, his voice taking on the overly enthusiastic tone that he reserved for those times when he was least sure of himself. Astrid was sorry she’d made him feel that way, but she still couldn’t look at him because she couldn’t even believe that she was going to do this. To ask for this.

“I brought you a present, “he said, pulling something out of one of the pockets of his body armour.

Whatever it was, the dying sun caught it and it shone brightly. Astrid turned to look at it, resting in his hands. It was a dagger, beautifully forged, a Deadly Nadder etched into its blade. Hiccup handed it to her and Astrid turned it over in her hands. The other side of the blade bore her name. She smiled at it, knowing that he’d done this. Hiccup had made this with his own hands. He’d designed it and built it himself. She couldn’t help but look up into his face then.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Hiccup smiled lopsidedly. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her forehead. “Happy Birthday.”

It was now or never. Astrid set the dagger down with all the reverence reserved for the gods. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She shifted so that she was facing him. Hiccup watched her with wary eyes, preparing for the worst.

“Hiccup, there’s something I want to ask you,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied, drawing out the word as though it could protect him from whatever was coming next.

She drew in a breath and lost all her nerve. “As you know, I’m eighteen now.”

“Yep. You definitely are.”

Astrid glared at him and he held up his hands in placation.

“And we’ve known each other for a while now,” she continued.

Hiccup frowned at her. “Our whole lives to be exact.”

She scowled. “Be quiet! As I was saying, we’ve known each other for a while and we know each other much better now than we did …before.”

Hiccup’s face split into a grin and he threw himself backwards into the grass, hands interlocked behind his head. “What’s this about, Astrid?”

She glared at him. She felt her temper slipping away, not slowly or controllably, but rapidly. She twisted around so that her knees were on either side of his hips, so that he could look upon her impressive glower and repent for his constant chatter. His expression fell and Astrid had only a second to realize that it wasn’t in fear of her expression at all. She was acutely aware of where her body was touching his body. In the past, she would have rolled away, they would have pretended it hadn’t happened. The both would have glowed red with embarrassment. But this time Astrid hesitated. She stayed where she was, all her anger having melted away.

“Hiccup,” she said.

And he watched her face raptly, all his attention locked on her. She felt she didn’t need to say it then. She just leaned over and kissed him. At first it was soft, but it grew more fevered and more frantic. Their bodies were touching and she could feel the heat of him through the leather. His hands were hot on her bare arms, his kisses as desperate as hers. She was tugging at straps and buckles, trying desperately to rid him of his clothing. He pushed her heavy fur hood away from her shoulders. Astrid was vaguely aware of the fact that they were sitting on the edge of a cliff. That maybe this was dangerous and ill-advised in so many ways. She found she didn’t care.

It was Hiccup who broke their kiss, his breath ragged and fast, steaming against her skin. His lips hovered just above the skin of her collarbone.

“Astrid,” he breathed, “We shouldn’t-“

“Why shouldn’t we?”

Hiccup pulled back to look at her face. “We’re not married,” he said, pushing the words out rapidly as though they left a bad taste in his mouth.

“So?”

“So?” he repeated incredulously, “Astrid-“

“I’ve been drinking Maiden’s Tea.”

“Maiden’s Tea? Have you been planning this?” he tried to struggle out from beneath her, but there was no way she was letting that happen. She pinned him with her bodyweight and he stopped struggling.

“Maiden’s Tea isn’t exactly foolproof,” he sighed.

“Good thing I’m not a fool.”

He frowned at her, his brow low and his mouth set. She knew what that meant – he was thinking. If she let him think too much, he’d find a way to convince her that this was a bad idea. She didn’t really care. Of course it was a bad idea. It was reckless and full of risks, but they were risks she was willing to take. Risks she wanted to take.

“Astrid.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” she said.

He hesitated. “Of course I want this.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Pregnancy?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Astrid sighed. She looked into those big green eyes of his, eyes that were conflicted in so many ways and she decided to try a different tack.

“Do you trust me?” she asked so very softly.

“Of course I trust you,” he answered without hesitation. She could see his confliction clearing.

“Then trust me on this.”

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him upward to her, kissing him with everything she had. His arms came up around her waist and she knew she’d won.

The first time had been awkward and uncomfortable at times. Hiccup had apologized a hundred times. He’d been gentle with his touches, generous with his kisses. The second time had yielded less apologies and less gentleness. And that time Astrid’s world had exploded into a million pieces all at once. She’d put her hand on his chest and murmured into his skin,

“You have the heart of a dragon.”


	8. She was nineteen and he was twenty. (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: HTTYD2 spoilers.

She was nineteen and he was twenty.  Everything was different now.  After months of struggle between Hiccup and Stoick; after months of Hiccup’s Map of the Known World Expansion Project; after years of thinking that his mother was dead – it was all different now and Astrid didn’t really know where she fit.

Well, she knew where she fit.  She knew how her head fit against his shoulder.  She knew how her waist fit against the curve of his inner elbow.  She knew how her lips fit against his.  But where did she fit in this new Berk?  Where did she fit in the Chiefdom of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III?

Hiccup was different, too.  He kept himself busy; almost too busy.  He stretched himself to his limit when dealing with the problems of the tribe.  He was trying so hard to fill in the blanks that Valka’s absence over the past twenty years had left in his life.  Valka was trying, too - trying to make it up to him, trying to mother him.  Astrid found their interactions painful to watch.  There was love there – real love – but Hiccup didn’t know how to have a mother and Valka didn’t know how to be a mother.  They spent most of their time flying on Cloudjumper and Toothless. 

Then there was Astrid.  By the time Hiccup had time for Astrid, he was exhausted.  Most of the time, he fell asleep in her arms as they lay in the damp grass on their cliff (Hiccup had renamed it on the map – Mount Ascup).  He’d all but abandoned the Dragon Academy, leaving the study plans and training sessions entirely in Astrid’s hands.  She was glad for Fishlegs, glad that he was willing to help her with the Academy.  But she missed Hiccup.  As good as she was, as good as Fishlegs was, Hiccup was better.  Valka held a wealth of knowledge about dragons, but Hiccup brushed off any suggestion of Valka teaching in the Academy. He was too busy learning what he could from her to be willing to share her with the rest of them.

The truth was, it was starting to get on Astrid’s nerves.  And not only his selfish hold on his long-lost mother, but all of it.  The way he was so doggedly avoiding the real issues.  The way he was so doggedly avoiding her.  She had known that when Hiccup became Chief, things would be different.  She had known that he would be busy in a way that neither of them could have comprehended.  She had known she would have to move aside, she’d have to share him with the rest of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.  She’d known all this, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

No one had expected Stoick to die.  No one had expected Toothless to have been the cause.  At the head of all these people was Hiccup and Astrid knew – she _knew_ – that he hadn’t grieved properly.  And despite everything that Toothless had done to save Berk, Astrid knew that Hiccup hadn’t forgiven the dragon.  Not fully.  Toothless knew it, too.  It was in the way Hiccup spoke to him, handled him, rode him.  He was building a wall between himself and Toothless and this, above all else, disturbed Astrid most.

She’d asked Hiccup to carve out an hour for her.  She’d asked him to meet her at the Academy.  She’d asked him to come alone.  As she waited, Astrid ran her hand along Stormfly’s bright blue scales.  Stormfly swayed happily beside her and Astrid thought of Toothless and Hiccup.  She thought of their bond, forged first by necessity and later strengthened with trust and loyalty.  It wasn’t different from her bond with Hiccup, not really.  He’d needed her to believe in him and she’d needed not to fall out of that tree.  He’d needed her not to tell his father about the nest and his will, his determination, and his _dedication_ to a _dragon_ had swayed her heart.  She’d trusted him and it had felt as natural as swinging a battle axe.  As though she had always been looking for a reason to trust him.  To believe in him. 

Now, though, things were different.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.  It was more that he seemed to be losing trust in himself.  It was as though losing trust in Toothless was decaying his sense of self.  And she couldn’t watch it.  He could avoid her.  He could spend all his time with Valka.  He could spend all his time trying to right the wrongs of the village.  But none of that would change what was happening in his heart.  None of that would fix the fraying bond between him and Toothless.

Toothless landed with the soft, silent precision that he always had.  Hiccup didn’t say anything in word of greeting as he climbed off of Toothless.  Astrid watched him pat Toothless’ nose, but it felt forced.  It felt like he did it out of obligation.  She didn’t miss the reproachful look on Toothless’ face.  The dragon knew he was not yet forgiven.  Astrid wondered if Hiccup knew that he hadn’t forgiven him yet.  She wondered how long he would walk around in this daze of grief if she let him.

Hiccup walked toward her with a determined stride.  He caught her chin with his fingers and tilted her face up into a kiss.  It was brisk and hard, a greeting without any feeling.  Astrid frowned at him. 

“What’s going on, Astrid?” he asked without looking at her.  In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her.

Astrid rolled her eyes, sighed loudly and crossed her arms across her chest.  She glared at him until he finally looked at her, frowning slightly.

“What?” he asked.

“You need to stop all of _this_ ,” she said, gesturing at the length of his body with her hands.

He looked down at himself.  “You just gestured to all of me.”

“Yes, exactly,” she said.

“Okay, well, I thought I was past that point in my life,” he said wryly.

“Oh, you were, but now?  I’m not so sure.”

“What are you talking about?  Astrid, I don’t have time for this.”

“That’s exactly it, Hiccup!  You don’t have time for _anything_ ,” Astrid said, throwing her arms up in the air. 

The dragons startled at that.  Stormfly and Toothless watched them closely, unable to determine what it was they were supposed to be doing when Astrid and Hiccup disagreed. How did they divide their loyalties? Did they have to? They both opted to stay where they were and watch.

“Look,” he said, holding up his hands as though he were trying to tame a dragon, “If this is about us, if I’m not-“

“Don’t.  Just don’t.  Anything you say right now about us is not going to help.  This isn’t about us,” Astrid said, her voice deathly calm, “Look at Toothless.”

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder at the Night Fury, confusion crossing his features. 

“What about him?”

“No, Hiccup.  _Look_ at him.”

Astrid walked up to Hiccup and turned his shoulders, twisting him to look at Toothless.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” Hiccup asked, his voice weary.

Astrid looked up at his profile.  He was still Hiccup.  His mouth was still in that stubborn line.  His face was the same; she could draw him in lines and curves and never get him right.  There was still a heart of a dragon pumping in his chest.  He still had bravery and cunning and intelligence in his soul.  But his eyes, his eyes were harder than they should be.  His eyes were unseeing.

“You’ve never needed to ask that before,” she said softly.

His hard glance touched her face, but only for a second, then his eyes were locked on Toothless.  His face softened and Toothless watched him with an expression that Astrid could only describe as hopeful jubilation.    As though he knew that Hiccup was finally looking at him; looking at his best friend and not just seeing the dragon who’d killed his father.

“Toothless,” he practically whispered.

Astrid stood back as Hiccup walked up to Toothless.  She watched from the distance as he knelt down in front of the dragon, murmuring something she couldn’t hear.  His arms were around Toothless’ head, Toothless responding by knocking Hiccup to the ground and licking his face.  Hiccup’s laughter filled the arena and Astrid felt the tell-tale pinprick of tears in her eyes.  She’d been worried she’d never hear it again.

Hiccup tilted his head back to look at her from the ground. 

“Astrid, thank you.”

She knelt next to him and patted Toothless, earning a sloppy lick in response.  “You’re not alone, Hiccup.  You have friends.  Don’t shut yourself off to us.”

Hiccup reached for her hand and twined his fingers in between hers, still lying flat on his back.

“It’s been hard, you know?  With my dad… And Toothless.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.  I know that.  But maybe it was mine.  Maybe I should never have brought dragons to Berk.  Maybe I should never have tried to take on Drago.”

Astrid disentangled her hand from his and ran her fingers along his jaw.  “’Maybe’ is a coward’s diversion, Hiccup.  Maybe I should have killed Toothless that night.  Maybe I should have turned you in.  Maybe I should have stopped you from trying to take on Drago.  ‘Maybe’, Hiccup, doesn’t and will never change the facts.”

Toothless flattened his head against Hiccup’s chest and Hiccup’s hands went up effortlessly, without any thought, to stroke him. The sight of it made Astrid’s heart swell in her chest.

“Despite everything,” he said so softly that Astrid had to strain to hear it, “I don’t regret any of it.”

“Start acting like it, then,” Astrid said lightly, gently thumping her fist against his forehead.

Hiccup looked up into her face and smiled.  “What would I do without you?”

“Probably something stupid.”

“Definitely something crazy.”

“Good thing I like crazy.”

“Good thing I love you,” Hiccup said, kissing her fingers.  Toothless growled happily against his chest.


	9. He was twenty and she was nineteen.

He was twenty and she was nineteen. Things were finally getting easier for Hiccup. The sun was shining, the tribe was happy, the dragons weren’t damaging anything, Valka was finally comfortable in Berk, and Astrid was handily running the Dragon Academy. For once Hiccup felt as though things were going his way. For once he felt like he could have a little peace.

And with a little peace comes a little adventure – he finally had time to spend with Astrid again, finally had time to work on his map again, and finally had time to let Toothless really stretch his wings again. If the gods would allow it, he’d be able to do all three at once. If only he could find Astrid first.

Hiccup figured the best place to start would be the Academy. She was in charge, so it seemed like a logical first step. He rode Toothless to the arena where he found Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, and Snotlout tending to their dragons. Astrid was notably absent.

“Hey guys,” he said as he dismounted Toothless, “Have any of you seen Astrid?”

Ruffnut snorted. “Oh, we’ve _seen_ her,” she said.

Tuffnut laughed. “Yeah, we’ve _seen_ her,” he echoed. Confusion crossed over his features. “Wait. We have? Seen her do what?”

“Okay, thanks for nothing,” Hiccup said.

He turned to Fishlegs. “Fishlegs?”

“Yes?” Fishlegs replied looking nervously to the side.

“Have you seen Astrid?”

“My name is Fishlegs. I live on the island of Berk. I don’t know anything about Dragons or those who ride them,” he said in monotone, refusing to look at Hiccup.

Hiccup glowered at him. He looked to his final option: Snotlout. He was leaning against Hookfang, studiously looking at his nails. Hiccup sighed.

“I don’t suppose you know where Astrid is, do you, Snotlout?”

“I guess I have to be the one to tell you,” he said, his mouth curled up on one side.

Hiccup knew Snotlout was taking great pleasure in whatever it was that he was going to tell him. Hiccup waited, his mouth locked in a tight line.

“Well, you know how women are. One minute they’re all ‘Yeah! You’re the Viking!’ and the next they’re all ‘Oooh, Hiccup has a Night Fury’. Before you know it, it’s all ‘Oooh, Eret has a tattoo beard’.”

“What are you even talking about, Snotlout?” Hiccup sighed.

“She’s been spending all her time with Eret!” Fishlegs said rapidly. He sighed. “Oh, that feels so much better to have it out.”

“I’d spend all _my_ time with Eret,” Ruffnut sighed.

Hiccup followed her gaze upward where he could see Stormfly and Skullcrusher zipping through the clouds. He turned back to his friends.

“I told her to train him,” he said.

“Oh, she’s training him,” Snotlout sneered.

Hiccup glared at him.

“What?” Snotlout spat.

Hiccup watched Stormfly and Skullcrusher hovering in the clouds. He could just make out Astrid’s gesticulating to Eret. He had asked her to train Eret. Hiccup saw the value in having another rider on Berk. He saw the value that Eret could bring to the tribe. He’d never really stopped to think about what it would mean for Astrid to spend so much time with him. He never thought he’d have to think about that.

Astrid looked down and waved at Hiccup. He didn’t respond, but watched stoically as Stormfly and Skullcrusher came hurtling out of the clouds toward the arena. Hiccup didn’t flinch, even as their speed blew up the dust at his feet. Astrid and Eret landed their dragons, laughing.

“That was _amazing_! Thanks, Astrid,” Eret said, grinning at her.

“You’re a natural! We need to get up there and try out some evasive work. Hiding in cloud cover, avoiding dragonfire, avoiding obstacles…”

Hiccup grew annoyed with Astrid’s excitement. It wasn’t really that she was excited so much as she was completely and utterly ignoring him. To talk to another man. A man he had pushed her towards.

“The best was when we-“ Eret started.

“With the-“ Astrid continued excitedly.

“And then when we did that,” Eret gestured his hand in a spiral.

“Barrel roll?” Hiccup asked flatly.

“Yeah! Exactly!” Astrid said excitedly.

Her face fell when she saw him standing there, leaning against Toothless. Hiccup had never been very good at hiding his emotions. He knew his face was hard, flat, and angry.

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him, just slightly. “Everything alright?”

Hiccup pushed himself up to standing and sauntered slowly from Toothless’ side. He shrugged, “Sure. Of course,” he said looking everywhere but at her face, “Why wouldn’t it be? Everything’s great.”

Astrid frowned, her eyes narrowing even more, as though she hoped to see through him.

“Hi, Hiccup,” Eret said jovially, stepping forward. “Astrid’s a great teacher.”

“I bet,” Hiccup said, looking solely at Astrid.

Her face darkened with his words, anger replacing her cautious curiosity. She spun around and suddenly became very interested in Stormfly’s scales.

Eret looked from Astrid to Hiccup and back again. He started taking slow, even steps backward, away from them.

“Well, I’ll be going. See you tomorrow, Astrid. Hiccup, good to see you.” Eret’s words were hastily strung together and his retreat from the arena was even hastier.

Hiccup watched Astrid in silence as she stroked Stormfly.

“This is about to get good,” he heard Ruffnut whisper to Tuffnut.

“Do you think she’ll hit him?” he asked excitedly.

Hiccup turned and glared at them. “A little privacy, guys?”

Ruffnut scoffed. “No fun.”

Hiccup glared at the group until they had cleared the arena. The silence between Astrid and Hiccup was unbearable. He felt the inkling of betrayal somewhere in his gut, but he couldn’t be sure if it was real or all in his head. He stared at the back of Astrid’s head, white blonde hair ruffling in the growing wind. Dark clouds were rolling toward the shore from somewhere out over the ocean.

“You know, I was hoping we’d be able to fly out today and continue the map,” he said, trying to keep his voice conversational.

“Oh yeah? Well, it looks like it’s going to storm now, so…”

Astrid finally turned to face him. He searched her face for any indication of guilt. All he saw was the same beautiful, strong girl he had always known. Her eyes were as clear as the sky on a summer’s day. Her skin was pink, rosy from the flight and exertion. Her expression was even and expectant, devoid of the anger that had only just been brewing moments ago.

“Maybe we can go tomorrow?” she suggested lightly.

“I thought you were meeting Eret tomorrow,” Hiccup said. He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so hard, so accusatory.

Astrid narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “That can be rearranged.”

“Can it?”

“Hiccup, what is this about?” she asked, exasperated.

Hiccup shrugged. “You tell me. I heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

Astrid’s face pinched with incredulity. “ _Training_ him.”

Hiccup knew he should check his words. He knew there was a better way to deal with this, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Private lessons?”

Astrid shook her head slowly. “ _You_ wanted him trained. Look, Hiccup, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I think it’s best we stop this conversation now.”

She turned back to Stormfly. Hiccup knew better, he really did, but he also knew that Eret was everything Hiccup was not. Eret had more _Viking_ in his baby finger than Hiccup did in his entire being. Would it really be so odd that Astrid would be looking for those qualities in a mate? Would it really be so hard for her to walk away from him?

“What if I don’t want to?” he persisted.

“Too bad,” she said, climbing onto Stormfly’s back.

Hiccup put his hand on Stormfly’s nose, subduing the dragon momentarily. “I’m your Chief.”

Astrid’s eyebrows rose to incredible heights on her forehead. “That’s what you are? My _Chief_?”

She shook her head at him disgustedly and pulled up on Stormfly’s saddle. “Stormfly, up!”

Hiccup glared at her. “Where are you going?” he shouted as she and Stormfly rose in the air.

“Away from you!” she shouted back.

“You can’t run from me! I have a Night Fury!” he hollered at her.

He jumped on Toothless’ back. “Come on, bud. Don’t let her get away.”

They rose in the air rapidly, the sudden change in pressure gave Hiccup a rush to his head, as it always did. They were hot on Stormfly’s tail. Astrid looked over her shoulder then hunkered down in her saddle and urged Stormfly higher.

“Astrid!” Hiccup shouted at her.

She kept flying higher, but a Deadly Nadder was no match for a Night Fury in speed and Hiccup was next to her in seconds. Astrid hovered Stormfly and glowered at Hiccup.

“What do you want?” she shouted.

They were sitting in the middle of the storm clouds that had been threatening Berk. Hiccup felt the first drops of rain, cold against his face.

“I want to talk to you!”

“I have to nothing to say to you!”

“Astrid! What’s going on with Eret?”

“I told you!” she screamed, her face red with rage, “I am _training_ him!”

“Training him in what, exactly? When I asked you to teach him, I didn’t expect you to fall for him!” Hiccup shouted.

“To fall for him?” Astrid shouted back, her eyes wide with disbelief, “Is _that_ what you think is going on? Is _that_ what you think of me?”

The storm was upon them now fully. Rain and hail pelted their faces. Lightning grew nearer, which made Toothless nervously change position. Hiccup patted his head.

“Whoa, bud. It’s okay.”

He looked back up at Astrid. “We should land. It’s not safe up here.”

But Astrid’s face told him that she had no intention of landing, despite the wind, rain, and booming thunder.

“I can stay up here all day, Hiccup. But you can’t,” she said, pointedly looking at his metal leg.

“Astrid.”

She turned Stormfly into the clouds. Hiccup had no choice but to follow her. He’d never leave her alone up here. Lightning lit up the sky and Toothless’ movements became more frightened and erratic. Still, Hiccup urged him onward. He could barely see Astrid ahead of him, but once they had a clear visual, Toothless was beside Stormfly.

“Turn back, Hiccup,” Astrid yelled.

“I won’t leave you here!”

“Don’t worry about it! Maybe _Eret_ will rescue me,” she said. Even the howling winds couldn’t hide her heavy sarcasm.

“I didn’t think you were the in-need-of-rescuing kind,” he yelled as he urged Toothless deeper into the storm.

The lightning came more frequently and closer than Hiccup would have liked. He knew this was a dangerous game. He knew that he ran the risk of killing both himself and Toothless. They were both marked with metal. They had both been hit before. But still, he urged Toothless on. Some things were worth dying for. Some _people_ were.

The bolt came out of nowhere, but those that hit often do. It was Toothless’ tail that took it and his replacement fin was burning up fast. Toothless was losing control over his flight. It had happened a thousand times before. Hiccup was so much better at hanging on now than he had been five years ago, but there’s only so much turbulence a body can take before it’s thrown from its saddle. Hiccup felt it when he detached from Toothless, the unexpected horror of weightlessness. Suddenly they were both free falling through the stormy sky. As always, Hiccup kept his head about him. If he activated his flight suit, he ran the risk of being taken too high, too far away from Toothless. The only chance they had was if he could somehow reach Toothless, but even then, what would happen? The tail fin was gone and they were too high up to land reasonably.

They came out of nowhere – Stormfly and Astrid. Astrid grabbed Hiccup’s arm and yanked him onto Stormfly.

“Toothless!” he said.

She nodded once and Stormfly dove to retrieve the falling Night Fury. Toothless roared once when Stormfly’s claws connected with him. The problem was a Deadly Nadder wasn’t exactly made to carry two humans and an injured Night Fury in the middle of a lightning storm. They were spinning out of control fast.

Hiccup’s hands closed around Astrid’s waist tightly. “There!” he shouted, pointing to an outcrop of rock.

“Already on it,” Astrid shouted back. “Stormfly, aim for that cliff!”

Stormfly dropped Toothless hard into the cliff they’d found before landing poorly herself. Hiccup was thrown off Stormfly’s back, skidding hard against the rock face. His head hit the ground with a crack and the world went black.

 

The first thing Hiccup saw when he opened his eyes was Astrid’s face. He could see a line of worry creasing her forehead, her eyes swimming with concern.

“Hiccup!” she cried, throwing herself into his chest.

“Ow,” he muttered, reaching up to rub the back of his head. The storm seemed to let up just then, a long beam of sunlight penetrating the clouds.

Astrid sat up, her hands on either side of his face, studying his eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked frantically.

“I think so,” he said as he tried to sit up. The world spun wildly. “On second thought,” he said, laying back down, “Maybe not. Toothless?”

Astrid smiled and it was better than the sun breaking through the clouds. “He’s fine. We’re all fine. You, naturally, had to hit your head off a rock. I hope it’s knocked some sense into you.”

Hiccup remembered that he’d been upset with her about Eret. About what the others had said. He’d been worried that he was losing her. He’d been ridiculous. Astrid had saved his life yet again. How was it that he could trust her with his life, but not to be faithful to him? That, he had to admit, made no sense.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” he said softly, reaching up to touch her cheek.

“You should be.”

“It’s just…I’m… _me_ and Eret is _Eret_. I could see why you’d want to spend more time with him. I guess I was afraid of losing you.”

“You talk about him as though _you’re_ in love with him. Should _I_ be concerned?”

Hiccup laughed and winced. Apparently laughing hurt. Astrid pressed her palms into either side of his face. They were warm against his cheeks and he leaned into them.

“I love you, you stubborn, pig-headed idiot.”

Hiccup smiled, just a tiny bit. It had occurred to him that he had neglected certain duties expected of a Chief of a tribe. It occurred to him that although his brains were slightly addled at the moment, there was nothing clearer in his life than Astrid.

“Astrid,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.

“Hiccup.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 


	10. She was nineteen and he was twenty. (2)

She was nineteen and he was twenty. Hiccup was missing. Well, maybe that wasn't strictly true. Hiccup had been notably absent from Astrid's day-to-day life. Part of it was his role as Chief; part of it was his role as son; and, part of it was just Hiccup being _Hiccup_.  Since he had proposed to her, she had seen him twice. He was busy, she understood that, but she was starting to feel his absence acutely.

That day had been no different. Astrid had come home early from training Eret after an unfortunate incident involving a fire ball and a pair of singed eyebrows. She was tired, sore and understandably irritable. She'd been making notes peppered with insults that she would hurl at Eret the next morning when she heard a timid knock at the door.

As she moved to answer the door, she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door, mumbling something. A smile stretched across her face, her dark mood instantly fading with the knowledge that Hiccup had come to see her. He hadn't lingered at her doorstep like this in a very long time. He'd become accustomed to half-knocking and then striding through her house as though he owned the place, talking incessantly about whatever it was he was working on that day. He'd help himself to a smoked cod, bite into it, and toss himself into a chair. The knocking should have been the first indication that this was not a normal visit.

Astrid swung the door open and smiled widely at Hiccup.

"I've come to ask for Astrid –" he paused. He'd had a nervous grin plastered on his face which fell the instant he realized who had answered the door. " _Astrid!_ What are you doing here?"

She scowled, irritated by his greeting. If she had been in a better mood, she might have asked his question back to him and things might have had a chance to go smoothly. Her hand fell away from the door, but she remained in the doorway, frowning.

"Nice to see you, too," she said flatly.

"Astrid, it's always nice to see you," Hiccup said slowly, taking in her expression, "Except maybe when you look like that. What happened to your eyebrows?"

Astrid's frown deepened.

"Not that there's anything wrong with…blackened eyebrows," he said hastily, unable to stop himself from talking with his hands, "Any eyebrows on my Astrid are wonderful eyebrows. Magnificent eyebrows. Glorious eyebrows."

Astrid ignored his abject flattery and narrowed her eyes at the purse in his right hand.

"What is that?"

"What is what?" Hiccup looked at the purse and then shoved his hand behind his back, "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated slowly.

"Yep. Nothing at all. Your uncle home?"

Astrid folded her arms across her chest and didn't respond.

"I'm going to take that as a 'no'. Well, I should be going."

"You're going?" she asked, smiling sweetly while taking hold of the front of his jacket, "So soon? You only just got here."

Hiccup swallowed noisily. "Well, you know the busy life of the chief," he said, his voice cracking. Astrid was glad he had the good sense to fear her mood. Astrid had been counting on the fact that he was completely incapable of speaking without gesturing with his hands and Hiccup didn't disappoint. She dropped his collar and snatched the purse from his hand.

"Now what have we here?"

"Astrid! Astrid, no!"

But it was too late; she had already opened the purse and dumped its contents into her hand. Or she would have had it all fit in her hand. Heavy gold and silver coins fell from her fingers and clattered on the floor. Hiccup froze, his eyes wide with terror. Astrid looked from the money to Hiccup's face and back again.

"What is _this_?"

Hiccup winced and looked around for some sort of assistance – any assistance. He found none. He shrugged. " _Mundr_?"

Astrid eyes met Hiccup's. She studied his face, certain he was making fun of her. Hiccup released a breath he'd been holding and sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"It's not enough, is it?" He stared off somewhere beyond Astrid's shoulder. "Maybe I can make him a sword. I have some new designs for better blood-letting-"

"Hiccup," Astrid said quietly, silencing his babbling, "This is at least three times my dowry."

"I know."

"It's too much!"

Hiccup shrugged and frowned, thinking. "Actually, I don't think it's enough."

Astrid rolled her eyes and dumped the coins back in the purse. She stooped to pick up the fallen coins and forced them into the purse, too. She had to wonder how the Chief of Berk didn't understand something as simple as dowries. It's not as though he couldn't ask someone about it.

She shoved the purse at Hiccup wearing a deep scowl on her face. Hiccup looked at the purse and then at Astrid's face. He made no move to take the purse from her.

"Are you…are you rejecting me?" he asked, his voice small.

A burst of irritation flowed through Astrid. She reached out and turned his hand palm up, roughly shunting the purse into it.

"You don't pay me to marry you," she said.

"But the _mundr_ …"

"Goes to my uncle. And it hasn't even been set. Do you even know what you're doing?"

Hiccup looked at her, his shoulders dropping. "Marrying you?"

The smile came to Astrid's face against her better judgement. She couldn't help it, not when Hiccup was clearly grasping for understanding. Not when he looked so lost. Astrid shook her head at him and smiled fondly.

"You really don't have any idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Why can't we just get married? Exchange swords and rings and vows and get on with our lives?" he sighed.

She pressed her lips against his cheek and wrapped her arms around him.

"For someone so smart, you can be so stupid sometimes."

She expected him to bristle under her touch. She expected him to argue, just a little. Instead he held her, his cheek against the top of her head. Astrid sighed. It had sounded exasperated; she had meant it to sound that way. But as she leaned into him, she smiled happily.

"My uncle will be home at dusk. Bring your mother and leave your purse at home. There's an order to these things, you know."

"We've been ignoring it so far," he said with a rakish grin.

Astrid punched him in the shoulder.

Hiccup returned with Valka after dusk. Their betrothal was made formal and a bride-price had been set (at considerably less than Hiccup had originally brought over). Astrid had watched Hiccup throughout the whole ordeal. He really didn't grasp the concept of a dowry. She knew he understood what it meant – the responsibilities, the honour – but he just didn't seem to care about the entire tradition. She shouldn't have been surprised – when had Hiccup ever cared about tradition?

When all the formalities had been tended to, Astrid and Hiccup slipped out into the night, mounted their dragons, and flew to their favourite place. It was late and moonbeams were dancing over the ocean's surface. They sat on the edge of Mount Ascup, leaning into each other, their fingers entwined.

"You know, I would pay all the money I have to marry you."

Astrid smiled. "Now you can keep it and buy me all the sheep my heart desires."

"Is that what your heart desires? Sheep?"

"And maybe the occasional smoked fish."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Nah, I don't think so."

"Nothing?" he asked.

"Mm, maybe a little Hiccup," she said, kissing his mouth gently.

He kissed her back with fervour, laying her down on the grass. A hundred kisses, a hundred touches, a hundred sighs passed before they broke apart.

"Okay," she said, breathless, "Maybe _more_ than a little Hiccup."


	11. She was twenty and he was twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: sexual content below.

She was twenty and he was twenty. She could taste the honeyed mead on his lips and tongue when he kissed her. Astrid wasn’t sure if there could be anything more blissful and perfect than this moment. The whole day had been building, building to _this_ moment; from the moment she woke up and was bathed in preparation; to the ceremony in the town centre, for all of Berk to see; the feasting, the dancing, the stories – all of it leading to the moment that he removed the bridal crown from her head, here in the bedroom where they would consummate their marriage. Here, to this moment when he was kissing her with sweet lips and an even sweeter tongue.

The witnesses had left them, having only needed to see the crown removed and not the consummation. Valka had told her that many, many years ago, their ancestors had insisted on actually witnessing consummation. That thought had bothered her, but not because she was embarrassed or bashful. It was because she didn’t want to share Hiccup with anyone. Not tonight. Tonight he was hers and hers alone. Yes, they would have their entire lives together. Yes, they would make love often (if she had anything to say about it). Yes to all of this. But tonight – tonight was special. Tonight was just the beginning.

Astrid whimpered a little when he broke the kiss. Undignified, she knew, but gods did she want him touching her. Anywhere. Everywhere. Her wide eyes watched him as a relaxed grin split his face. He started dropping his clothes to the floor – the wool tunic, his linen shirt, his pants. Astrid drank him in – the curves and definition of lean muscle beneath soft skin; the scars of battles won and lost, with men, with dragons, with himself.

A smile played on her lips as she shrugged off the furs around her shoulders. This wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other. It wasn’t the first time for anything, but there was something electric in the air tonight, something magical. Maybe it was just the mead coursing through her body. Maybe it was that they were married, _finally._ But for one charged minute, he watched her with wide green eyes that skimmed over her pale skin in the firelight. His gaze lingered on curves, lips parted in anticipation. He wanted her as much as she wanted him and there was something empowering in that knowledge.

Astrid couldn’t take waiting – she never really could abide by it – so she decided to expedite the process by stretching languorously, her arms above her head, her back arched enticingly, her legs outstretched. It had the desired effect because Hiccup couldn’t stay away then – he couldn’t stand at the foot of the bed and just watch her. She hadn’t expected his approach to happen the way it did – she hadn’t expected him to start at the foot of the bed, pressing searing kisses along the top of her feet, her calves, her thighs as he crawled toward her. Her breath hitched when he pressed kisses along her inner thighs, his fingers sliding, sliding, sliding up her leg with torturous delicacy. He kissed her hipbones and her lower belly, tiny hot kisses that made her writhe and moan under this touch. She was distracted with those kisses when he slid a finger inside her and then out again; her back arched and she knotted her fingers in his hair. She could feel him smile against her skin and silently plotted out a revenge that she would never take. If this was a battlefield, she’d have him at her mercy. But this was not a battlefield and she was completely at _his_ mercy – his delicious, maddening mercy.

His kisses moved upward, but his fingers stayed where they were between her thighs, teasing, touching, drawing her out. Astrid let out a noise of coiled frustration and Hiccup responded by sliding not one, but two fingers inside her while drawing his tongue along her skin from her navel to her breasts. Astrid bucked against him, crying out in surprise and pleasure. Hiccup was unruffled, tracing those small, hot kisses along her breasts, his tongue circling her nipples, sucking, teasing, and gently biting until she felt she could take no more. She called out his name, barely noticing how desperate she sounded, how pleading.

Hiccup pulled his fingers from her, tracing hot, wet lines along the curves of her body with them. He caught both her arms in his hands and pinned her wrists above her head. Their eyes met and she could see everything he wasn’t saying in them, things he couldn’t say, wouldn’t say, things he did say and had said – he told her that he loved her, that she was precious to him, that he was happy and in wonder and awe and amazement – he told her all this with his brilliant green eyes that were nearly black with desire. This was the beginning, those eyes said, only the beginning of their adventure together. His eyes fell to her lips and he leaned in to kiss her, slowly, thoroughly, as though she were a fine mead that needed long consideration to be enjoyed properly. He made her feel as though there was nothing – _nothing –_ that would ever be as important or special as she was in that very moment.

Hiccup nudged her thighs apart with his knee, the metal of his prosthetic leg shockingly cool against her calf. He settled himself between her thighs, releasing her wrists so he could angle her hips better. She liked the heat of his hands on her skin; she liked the feeling security that his support offered her. He slid into her slowly, his eyes locked on her face watching for any sign of discomfort. He was considerate of her even now, perched above her, and she loved him for it. She ran her hands up his arms, over taut biceps and strong shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, thick, soft hair that still bore the mark of her ministrations in the form of tiny braids. Astrid pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with all the zeal and passion that she had in her. It was her form of encouragement, her permission to him to _move_ , to make love to her.

They found an easy rhythm together, as they always did. Astrid held his body close to hers, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips and her arms tight around his shoulders, her hands in his hair, or sliding down his back, or _scraping_ down his back as they grew closer and closer to that point of absolute ecstasy. They kissed, hard and sloppy and frenzied, the heat of their passion rising to a fever pitch hotter than dragonfire. Astrid surged her body into his, her breasts pressed into his chest, her legs locked around his hips, her muscles seizing with the explosion of release – like a star that had burst from the heavens and rained down stardust and light over everything.

Astrid didn’t know how long they laid there waiting for their hearts to calm, Hiccup collapsed on top of her, her fingers gently running through his hair, damp with sweat. She started to hum the tune of an old song unconsciously, one she hadn’t thought about in years – a song that made her think of contentment and fulfillment. A song about dreams and the future. Hiccup tightened his arms around her.

“You know,” she said, her voice conversational and light, “I think I like this marriage thing.”

She could feel Hiccup’s smile against her breast. He lifted his head and gave her a half-smile, his eyes roguish. “Want to do it again?”

Astrid’s grin was quick to stretch across her face. “We probably should, you know, just to be sure it’s consummated.”

“Just in case,” Hiccup said, grinning.

She could taste the honeyed mead on his lips and tongue when he kissed her…

 


	12. He was twenty and she was twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I appreciate your interest in my story. I feel compelled to warn you that this is a sad chapter. Trigger warning: miscarriage.

He was twenty and she was twenty. Winter had come crashing down on Berk with little warning and all the rage of the gods. Hiccup was certain that Höðr hated him, but then again Hiccup was always certain that some god or another hated him. He was starting to think that Sjöfn might have some bone to pick with him, too. Astrid had been avoiding him for the better part of a week, which was impressive since they shared a bed. She was up and out of the house before he’d risen each morning and she was asleep each night before he’d even managed to leave the Great Hall.

Hiccup was hoping that it was just poor timing, but he was also mentally surveying every conversation he had with her up until now anyway. Just in case. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) he wasn’t able to come up with any one incident that had stood out. Life with Astrid had been great – from their marriage four months ago until last week. Harmonious. Magical. Perfect. So what had gone wrong? It weighed on him, her sudden absence. He missed her – the way she listened to him, the way she helped him figure things out, the way she teased him. He missed her physically, too. Hiccup was surprised that he could become accustomed to kisses and caresses so quickly; he was surprised by how much he relied on them, too.

Sadly winter waits for no one and Hiccup was beginning to understand the years of exasperation that his father had expressed, particularly when Hiccup had manage to destroy something while the village was preparing for winter. There was no room for error when winter approached. There were no resources to be spared, no time to be wasted. Hiccup was forced to spend considerable amounts of his own resources – mainly his brainpower and inventiveness – to prepare Berk for the winter. This meant less time was spent trying to determine where he’d gone wrong with Astrid. It wasn’t like Astrid not to tell him _immediately_ and _painfully_ when she was displeased with him. Her behaviour weighed heavily on his shoulders, even as he sat drawing out the final blueprints of the Wall of Berk.

Hiccup had designed the Wall to protect the bulk of the village from the high winds and vicious snowstorms that winter brought to the island. He was allocating considerable resources – wood, dragons, time – to building the Wall. He wanted to be sure that it would be sturdy enough to last the winter, but flexible enough to be easily dismantled in the spring. Gothi had come to him early that morning, gesturing wildly toward the sea. It was coming – the storm was coming. Gothi was never wrong, not about the weather. Not about anything. The Wall had to be erected now or else Berk faced yet another winter buried under mountains of snow, with high winds whistling through the seams of their houses. Hiccup had gathered as many dragon riders as he could at the Academy. He was pleased to see Astrid, even if she avoided looking at him.

“There’s a storm coming so we need to put the Wall up now,” he said, rolling out his plan for the others to see. “Snotlout, Fishlegs – take the South side; Ruff, Tuff, Gobber – you take the West side; Eret, Astrid and I can take the North side. If the storm starts, abandon the Wall, even if it’s not finished. A partial Wall is better than no Wall at all and I won’t have anyone being caught in cold.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Everyone except Astrid. She turned, mounted Stormfly and got ready to take off without a word. Hiccup had to run to catch her before she lifted off.

“Astrid!”

She looked at him, blue eyes hollow but defiant. Hiccup frowned at her and rested his hand on Stormfly’s side.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Anyone else might have missed it, the way her eyes widened in surprise ever so slightly, the way her hand tightened on the saddle, the way she squared her shoulders.

“No,” she said, her voice crisp, “Why would something be wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve been avoiding me all week?”

Astrid laughed, but it wasn’t light and it wasn’t real. “I have not. You’ve been coming home late.”

Hiccup was sure his disbelief was visible. Astrid rolled her eyes and tried to disengage Stormfly from Hiccup.

“Is that all?” she asked, “Shouldn’t we be helping Eret?”

“Astrid, I—“

“You worry too much, Hiccup,” she said, turning her face away and nudging Stormfly into the air.

Hiccup watched her go, a puzzled frown on his face. Toothless bumped his hand. “I don’t know, bud,” he said, tearing his eyes away from Astrid, now a blue dot in the grey sky.

Setting up the Wall was not without its problems and Hiccup was forced to leave Astrid and Eret to the North wall alone to help fix some issues that the twins had managed to cause (he didn’t really understand how they could manage to erect the wall _backwards_ , but somehow they had, much to Gobber’s dismay). By the time Hiccup was done righting the West wall, the temperature had dropped sharply, the winds had begun to howl, and the first flakes of snow had melted on his cheeks. The storm was upon them and it would only get worse from here on.

Hiccup made his rounds on Toothless, surveying the wall from the South side up, dismissing the dragon riders. The Wall was mostly in place, mostly the way he’d designed it. He was on his way to the North side when Eret appeared beside him.

“The North is looking good, Hiccup. It’s not entirely done, but it’s almost there.”

Hiccup nodded, his eyes scanning the air for any sign of Astrid and Stormfly. He flicked his gaze back to Eret.

“Where’s Astrid?”

“Where—“ Eret said, looking over his shoulder. He turned back to Hiccup. “She was just here, right behind me.”

Hiccup had a terrible sense of foreboding, especially with the gods hating him the way they did.

“Okay, you head back to the Academy, get Skullcrusher penned somewhere warm for the storm. I’m going to look for her.”

“You sure you don’t want help?”

Hiccup shook his head. “No, I’ll find her. Just get back to the village before this gets any worse.”

Hiccup didn’t wait for a response. He urged Toothless toward the North wall, glancing at the grey clouds that were rolling in over the ocean. The wind had become stronger and his skin burned in the cold. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Toothless to fly without being thrown off course by the frigid wind. Hiccup could see Stormfly attempting to hover by the North wall carrying a large pole of wood. As he got closer, he could hear Astrid encouraging Stormfly.

“Just one more, girl. Then we can go get warm.”

“Astrid! What are you doing?”

Astrid looked up, blinking her eyes against the cold wind. “Just one more pole!” she yelled.

“Leave it! The storm is too rough! It’ll stand until the storm calms,” Hiccup said.

“No, I can do this!”

“Astrid! Leave it!”

“No, I got this!” she said stubbornly, urging Stormfly on.

Hiccup watched the pole wave in the wind, Stormfly barely able to fly straight let alone drop a pole into place.

“Astrid, stop,” Hiccup shouted, “It’s impossible!”

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say for she shot him a glare that dared him to argue with her.

“I. Can. Do. This,” she said through gritted teeth.

As though Höðr himself had heard her, a sudden, sharp wind knocked Stormfly out of her hover, the pole plummeting into the sea below. Hiccup watched as Stormfly struggled to maintain flight.

“Come on, bud,” Hiccup whispered to Toothless, urging him down.

Stormfly seemed to steady her flight. The winds increased, more sharp bursts knocking both dragons out of their flight paths.

“Let’s get back to the village,” Hiccup said.

Finally Astrid nodded in agreement, although she didn’t look happy about it. Both riders tried without success to direct their dragons upward. The wind was too powerful, the snow too heavy.

“We’re going to have to land,” Hiccup yelled over the howl of the wind.

Astrid narrowed her eyes, searching, and then pointed to a cave, low on the cliff. “There!”

With some difficulty, Hiccup and Astrid were able to direct Toothless and Stormfly into the cave. Hiccup jumped off of Toothless and walked around the interior of the cave, looking for tinder.

“There’s not much here,” he called back to Astrid.

The cave was so close to sea level that Hiccup could hear the violent waves crashing against the base of the cliff. Astrid didn’t respond and Hiccup turned to see her wiping at her face furiously.

“Astrid?” he said, walking to her, “As?”

Her hands were in her face, scrubbing at her eyes viciously. Hiccup caught her wrists and pulled her hands from her face. She wouldn’t look at him, her breathing heavy and hitched, jaw clenched. She was holding back tears, Hiccup realized. He let go of her hands and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone.

“What’s going on?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Astrid swallowed and looked up into his face. She seemed lost for words, wordlessly shaking her head and looking away.

“Let me help,” he whispered somewhat desperately.

Astrid never cried. Never.

“I just wanted to get something right,” she said, her voice loud with her effort to halt her tears.

“What are you talking about? You always get it right,” Hiccup said, keeping his tone light, “Is this about the pole?”

Astrid huffed. “No, it’s not about the pole, Hiccup.”

“Then what? What are you talking about? Please, Astrid.”

                Her eyes found his again and she shook her head once more. Hiccup waited, biting back words that he knew would only make her less likely to speak.

                She stared at the ground as she spoke, as though looking at Hiccup was impossible. “I lost it.”

                Hiccup frowned. “Lost what?”

                Astrid drew in a shaky breath and released it slowly. “The baby.”

                Her words hit Hiccup harder than any physical blow she’d ever landed on his person. He felt like the air had been sucked out of him all at once. Astrid had been pregnant? She hadn’t told him. And now she wasn’t. He felt the elation in combination with the despair all at once.

                “What?” he breathed.

                Tears flowed as freely from Astrid’s eyes as the words flowed from her mouth.

                “I was going to tell you. I went to Gothi; I wanted to be sure. And I was – and I was so _happy_. I couldn’t wait to tell you. But you were late, busy with the Wall and calming everyone’s worries. I thought I’d wait til morning, but then…”

                She paused there, unable to continue. Hiccup drew in a sobering breath and wrapped his arms around her fiercely. He let her cry – Astrid, who never cried. He let her sob and scream into his shoulder. He let himself cry, too, for the child they would never meet, but he made sure he’d calmed himself before she had. He made sure he could be the support she needed, the rock on which she could rely for foundation. Her pain was a thousand times what his could ever be.

                Astrid’s knees gave out, her body too weak from the exhaustion of grief. Hiccup eased her to the ground, keeping himself wrapped protectively around her. He leaned on Toothless, who watched them with careful, watchful eyes. Hiccup stroked her hair, rocked her in his arms, hummed to her until she calmed. She slept. Hiccup watched the snow whirl by the entrance of the cave, thankful for the warmth that the dragons supplied with the occasional fire blast. Thankful for the warmth of Astrid at his side. He dozed eventually, dreaming of pink babies and fatherhood.

                Hiccup woke to Astrid’s lips against his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into two bright eyes. He smiled at her as he always did when he woke to her face. Then his smile faltered when he remembered last night. Astrid turned away from him and glanced outside.

                “The storm’s stopped,” she said.

                Hiccup stared at her profile. She looked brighter today, the secret hint of a smile that she usually carried on her lips was back. She looked like herself again.

                “We weathered it together,” he said softly.

                She looked at him and smiled gently. She nodded.

                He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m sure it’s not our last storm,” he said.

                “No,” she said quietly, “I’m sure it’s not.”

                Hiccup ran his fingers along the side of her face. “I promise you good days, Astrid.”

                She smiled and kissed him. Astrid leaned her forehead against his and sighed. “Today is a good day."


	13. He was twenty-one and she was twenty.

He was twenty-one and she was twenty. He’d been gone for three days. It hadn’t gone well and he didn’t want to think about it. He wasn’t use to failure on Berk. He was starting to lose faith in other people. He was starting to wonder if he should just stay home. His disappointment with the results of his task were palpable, rolling around in his stomach like a two day old fish. Hiccup simply didn’t understand why some people, some _Vikings_ insisted on being blind to the attributes of dragons even when he and Toothless were living, breathing proof of the goodness that could exist between humans and the reptiles.

He and Toothless had very nearly been killed this time. Already he could hear Astrid. No, he couldn’t hear Astrid. He could see her eyes, that look that was part pity, part exasperation. She’d try to balm his wounded heart with words, or she’d try to distract him with jokes. He didn’t want either of those things from her. What he wanted was there to be an _understanding_ in the Archipelago. He wanted people to _see_ dragons as he did.

On the horizon, Berk came into view, that damp, unchanging pile of rocks that he called home. Hiccup felt the same swell of mingled pride and longing as he always did when he returned to his island. _That_ was where he belonged. The geography might never change, but the people had. He thought about his mother and the safe haven – the _sanctuary_ – for the dragons. Berk was his sanctuary. Everything good about his life was waiting for him there – his mother, his friends, his tribe. Astrid.

He wanted her more than anything. Not her words or even her silent understanding. He wanted to hold her. Touch her. _Feel_ her. Of all the disappointments he’d had in life, she’d never been one. Even when he’d thought she’d never be his. She was always exceeding his expectations. She was a constant source of amazement to him. He wondered if there would ever be a day when he returned and she wasn’t waiting for him on the cliffs. He wondered what he would do if that day ever came. Probably fall apart. Probably become a shadow of a human being. Or a madman.

Hiccup had to laugh at himself. It was all he could do when his old melodrama came back like this. _The gods hate me,_ he thought wistfully. He laughed out loud that time and Toothless tilted his head questioningly. Hiccup rested his hand gently on the dragon’s head.

“Just losing my mind, bud,” he said quietly.

Toothless warbled in agreement.

 “Good thing I can always count on you to back me up.”

 Toothless released a gravelly laugh and dipped his flight path down and back up again until Hiccup was sufficiently jostled into laughing.

 “Okay, okay! No more whining, I promise.”

Toothless rumbled happily and evened out his flight. It was smooth flying into Berk, barely a cloud in the sky, the sun setting at their backs. As they grew closer to the island, Hiccup found himself searching for Astrid. She would know, she always knew but she never told him how. Hiccup had a theory that it was Stormfly who knew, but he liked to believe that Astrid just _knew._ He could see their house, still far off in the distance, and he stared fixedly at the door, waiting for her to exit.

Hiccup and Toothless were barrelling toward Berk with all the whistling speed a Night Fury had to offer, the wind cutting through the eye-holes of his mask. Blinking back tears, he still searched for Astrid. His heart started to hammer with an unpleasant pressure in his chest. She hadn’t come out. Maybe his melodramatic fear was coming to fruition.

_Maybe the gods_ do _hate me_ ,he thought miserably as he and Toothless landed in front of the house. Still no Astrid. He hadn’t been gone this long before, would she have gone looking for him? Hiccup jumped off Toothless without preamble and strode purposefully into the house, not bothering to remove his helmet. He pushed the door open with all the impatience of a child at Snoggletog and found…nothing. There was no food brewing; there was no indication of life at all.

“Astrid?” he called as he climbed the stairs two at a time, banging open the door to their bedchamber.

The bed was there, empty and made up with light furs, ready for springtime on Berk. Still no Astrid. He rushed down the stairs, his anxiety rising. He knew it was ridiculous. He knew that he had no reason to believe she’d gone anywhere. No reason except for the fact that he was _Hiccup_ and maybe Astrid – _beautiful Astrid_ – had finally grown tired of him. Despite their friendship. Despite all they’d been through together. Despite the fact that three days ago on a bright morning, full of promise, she’d whispered the words,

“Go safely, my love. And may Hlín bring you back to me with all the haste of the gods.”

Hiccup’s skin tingled with the memory of her hot breath on his neck that day. He’d almost decided to stay, to make love to her, to never leave her side. Now he wished he had.

Hiccup kicked the front door open, Toothless’ name on his lips, only to be met with a startled yelp. Hiccup’s eyes widened when he saw his wife at the door, wide-eyed and clutching her chest. Hiccup swallowed. Knowing that she’d been agile enough to jump out of the way of the door he’d just kicked did not make him feel any safer. Astrid’s wrath rivaled that of any god. There was a blessed moment of peace during which Astrid blinked at him and he stood achingly still as though he were a startled deer staring into the eyes of a Monstrous Nightmare.

Then her face twisted, her eyebrows coming down in anger, an expression he was used to seeing and Hiccup found himself grinning like an idiot under his mask. Because the twist of her lips and the stubborn set of her jaw meant that she was standing here in front of him and she hadn’t decided that Hiccup Haddock wasn’t worth her time. Because he missed her face, no matter the expression.

“ _What_ in _Hel_ was _that_ about?” she spat angrily, “And are you _laughing_?”

He was laughing. He couldn’t stop laughing even though he knew it would likely lead to some form of physical assault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, trying to swallow his laughter.

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him and stepped toward him. Hiccup stepped back instinctually, but she kept coming until she’d backed him into a pole.

“And _what_ are you sorry about, exactly? _Leaving_ me for three days to deal with tribe problems _alone_? Or maybe kicking the door of our _home_ into my _face_?” she glowered at him and reached up to his mask, “I can’t talk to you when you’re wearing that thing.”

With one very unkind motion, she tore the helmet from his head.

“Ow! Why would you _do_ that?”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Astrid fisted the front of his flight suit and yanked him down into a hard kiss. She broke the kiss just a viciously.

“That was because I missed you,” she said.

Hiccup relaxed against the pole although he really should have known better; he should have known that he hadn’t escaped the “hatchet”. Her fist landed heavily in his stomach and he doubled over, gasping.

“And _that_ was for everything else.”

Hiccup groaned. “I think I prefer it the other way around. Hatchet, then the honey.”

Astrid hadn’t moved and she looked down at him as though considering what to do with him next.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

“Astrid—”

“Just do it.”

“It’d be easier without the crippling pain in my abdomen.”

“You should have thought about _that_ three days ago.”

“You’re a cruel mistress.”

Astrid smiled at that, a sharp, predatory grin. She slid her palms up his chest and Hiccup suddenly wished that he wasn’t wearing the heavy layering of his flight suit. Her hands looped around the back of his neck, fingers slipping into his hair. She pulled his face down to hers again and kissed him much more gently than she had earlier. Hiccup relaxed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her body close against his. Her tongue teased his mouth open, danced with his own tongue, left him mad with want. Hiccup’s hands were pulling at the back of the thin tunic she was wearing while Astrid’s hands pulled at the buckles on the front of his flight suit.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you,” Astrid said, breaking away from him to focus on the buckles, “But I hate this thing.”

“Ah, you don’t mean that. You’re just jealous. I’ll make you one.”

Astrid growled at him and Hiccup slid his hands up her arms. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the delicate skin beneath her ear. She paused in her struggles with the flight suit and angled her neck toward him. He kept kissing her neck, his fingers unclasping her hood and letting it fall to the floor. She’d all but given up on the buckles lost as she was in his kisses. His hand curled around the back of her neck, holding the weight of her head while he traced kisses along her jaw. His other hand worked at the stays of her tunic, pulling it open and exposing her shoulder to press light kisses along the skin there.

Astrid let out a roar of frustration and shoved him hard in the chest, pushing him away so that she could work at the buckles again. Hiccup looked down at her, an amused grin on his face.

“Shall I?” he asked, still grinning.

He received an irritated grunt in reply which he decided to take as an affirmative response. Hiccup made fast work of the buckles on his flight suit. Once he’d had them all loosened, Astrid pulled his armour off. Not gently; not nicely. Astrid wasn’t exactly a nice girl, after all. The jacket of his flight suit fell to the ground with a clatter and Astrid pressed the palms of her hot hands into his chest the same way she had earlier, pushing them upwards with deliberate slowness. She smiled when he groaned and he threw his head back, hitting off the pole behind him.

“Ow—”

Astrid silenced him with another bruising kiss to his lips. She trailed kisses along his jawline, down his neck, down, down, her tongue dragging across a nipple. Hiccup gripped her arms then and stared at her with wild eyes. Her eyes were nearly black with desire and he found he couldn’t really take much more of this. Not after the last three days. He wanted to _bury_ himself in her. He spun with her, pressing her back into the pole he’d just been pushed into. Astrid’s hands locked onto his shoulders and he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hips. Hiccup groaned into her hair as her lips made contact with his neck again, sucking, teasing. Astrid’s hands were everywhere – sliding across his chest, tangled in his hair, scratching down his back. She slid her hand down his front, past the flat plane of his stomach, lower, lower, and gripped him with gentle pressure. Hiccup gasped into her skin.

“Gods, woman, you’ll kill me.”

Astrid smiled at him with heavy, hooded eyes. She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Then take me, Viking,” before nipping his earlobe.

Hiccup struggled with her leggings, desperately tugging them down the length of her legs. Astrid struggled with his pants in much the same manner.

“You had to wear leather,” she murmured.

“ _You_ had to wear leggings.”

Their eyes met and they both laughed.

“Put me down,” Astrid said, a giggle on her lips.

Hiccup set her down and she tugged at her boots and leggings, leaving them in an unceremonious pile on the floor. Hiccup was preoccupied with his pants and looked up to see her pull the tunic over her head. As always, he was breathless at the sight of her. He would never tire of her soft, pale skin, of rosy pink nipples and soft curves. He caught her hand as she worked at her skirt and she looked up at him questioningly.

“Leave it on,” he said, his voice husky.

A slow smirk crept onto her face and she gripped his hips pulling him toward her. They kissed, this time lightly, teasingly. Astrid pushed Hiccup’s pants over his hips while his hands were buried in her hair, loosening her flaxen braids, tresses cascading heavily onto her shoulders. Hiccup ran his hands down the smooth skin of her back, down her skirt and under, gripping her buttocks and lifting her. She wrapped around him again, pressed her warmth into him as he nipped the sensitive skin where her shoulder met her neck.

“Hiccup,” she whispered desperately.

He pulled back to look at her face, he always wanted to look at her face. Her arms went over her head, gripping the pole behind her as he eased himself inside her. He watched her close her eyes slowly, rolling her head back against the pole, biting her bottom lip. He honestly couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight than Astrid in the throes of ecstasy. Nothing compared to how she moved, how he felt inside her. There was nothing like the soft, mewling noises that only he could bring out of her. This was a side of Astrid that no one else got to see and he reveled in it.

Their passion was a rising, driving thing. He was trying to make up for the three days he’d been away from her and she was trying to make him make up for it with frantic, hurried movements of her hips. Pushing, thrusting, _gasping_ , they reached a climax together that left Hiccup weak in the knees. Astrid curled her arms around his neck and kissed his temple with aching tenderness, her fingers toying with the damp hair at the nape of his neck. Unwillingly, they disentangled and practically collapsed to the floor, holding each other as though they were the only two people left alive.

Hiccup ran his fingers through Astrid’s silken hair, comforted by her body pressed into his, her skin warm against his. They laid there for a long time before either of them spoke, languishing in the security of one another.

“How did it go on Odin’s Landing?” Astrid asked quietly.

Hiccup sighed and shook his head.

Astrid drew circular lines on the centre of his chest, the touch of her fingertips sending shivers throughout his body. He took her hand in his and held it still against his chest.

“Not everyone is as forgiving as you,” she said.

“Everyone here was.”

“Everyone here trusts you.”

“They didn’t always.”

Astrid propped herself up onto her elbow so that she could look into his face. “Hiccup,” she said sharply.

His eyes locked onto her face – a worry line creased her forehead and he reached up to smooth it with his thumb.

“They always trusted you.”

A half-smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “This from the girl who told me to decide what side I was on.”

Astrid’s face slackened but she didn’t look away. “I’ve always trusted you, Hiccup. I just…didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Hiccup couldn’t fight his smile so he let it take free reign over his face, beaming at her. “My own personal shield maiden.”

Astrid punched him lightly in the arm though she was smiling. “Hardly a _maiden_ anymore.”

Hiccup cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Astrid said with narrowed eyes.

“But I _am_ pleased with myself.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. She laid down on the pillow of his shoulder and started drawing circles on his skin again.

“Hiccup, you know you can’t save the whole world, right?”

Hiccup stared at the beam above them, his eyes following the grain of the wood. He thought of the past three days and the bitter disappointment they had brought him. Then he thought about coming home to Berk, the swell in his chest upon his return, the people who lived here in harmony with dragons, the wife he loved more than anything. He knew he couldn’t change everyone’s minds about dragons. He knew that there would always be those in the world – people like those at Odin’s Landing – who would never see reason. He knew all this, but…

“I have to try, As.”

Astrid drew in a big breath and sighed. There was nothing irritated or exasperated about it. It was a sigh and nothing more.

“I know you do, Hiccup.”

 


	14. She was twenty and he was twenty-one

She was twenty and he was twenty-one. Astrid couldn’t believe that this was happening. She’d known that it _could_ happen, but she still couldn’t believe that it was _actually_ happening. For all Hiccup’s threats (he would call them offers, but Astrid preferred to think of them as _threats_ ) to make her a flight suit, she hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. But that was her failing indeed, for when had Hiccup neglected to follow through on a promise, even an unwelcome one?

“Just try it on,” he insisted, giving the blue jacket a shake.

It was beautifully matched to the colour of Stormfly’s scales, she had to concede at least.

“I don’t _want_ to,” she snapped.

“Come on, Astrid, don’t be like that!” he intoned, giving her _that_ look of disbelief. It was _that_ look that got them both into trouble again and again. That half-dare in his green eyes; that smug, knowing grin. She wanted to wipe it off his face, which was a bad sign. It was a sign that he was winning.

“If I’d known you’d be this resistant, I would have made a suit for Fishlegs instead.”

Astrid scoffed and rolled her eyes. “ _That_ would turn out _so_ well.”

Hiccup grinned at her. “He’d have to flap his arms.”

Astrid couldn’t hold in her snort of laughter at the image. Her smile lingered as she gazed at the proffered jacket. She sighed knowing that this was going to happen eventually or else she’d never hear the end of it. Hiccup would start gliding around where she could see him; he’d blow her off so he could glide; he’d annoy the Hel out of her until she gave in.

“Fine!” she spat, “Just _once_.”

“You say that now,” he replied, beaming at her brilliantly.

Astrid grabbed the jacket out of his hands a little too roughly and took satisfaction in watching his face fall.

“Astrid! Be careful! The calibrations are very—“

“Sensitive,” she finished, rolling her eyes, “I know, I know. They can’t be that sensitive if you’re always landing on your face in it.”

She swiped up the pants – matching Nadder blue, of course, he really hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her that he’d been making _outfits_ all those years ago – and disappeared into his workroom. She mused to herself while she changed into the flight suit that she really should have known better when he’d asked her to meet him at the smithy. Once again, Hiccup had asked something of her and once again she hadn’t thought to ask her own questions first. _Of course_ it would be a _flight suit_. For her.

Hiccup was still babbling, talking incessantly about the calibrations and the springs and the coils and the blah blah blahs. She wondered if he ever noticed that she didn’t actually absorb any of that information. She _could_ understand it if she really _wanted_ to, but she didn’t. Hiccup understood it and she understood Hiccup – that would always be enough for her.

“Well,” she said, cutting off his rambling and stepping out of the room.

Hiccup’s back was to her, but he spun rapidly on his metal foot at the sound of her voice. And then he stood there, speechless (for once), staring at her. Astrid frowned, looking down at herself. Had she put it on wrong? The button was in the front, the fin in the back. Everything _looked_ fine to her. She looked up at Hiccup and he was still staring with this sort of glazed look on his face. Astrid frowned.

“What?” she snapped.

Hiccup gave his head a little shake and walked over to her, absently tugging at the belts and buckles. “Uh, nothing. I was just…really accurate with measurements, apparently.”

Her grin was slow and languorous. Sometimes Hiccup was so caught up in technical nonsense that he barely noticed she was a woman. It made the times when he remembered that much more gratifying. Like now. The way he was avoiding her eyes and tugging uselessly at buckles that were firmly in place; the lack of concentration on his face.

“Hiccup,” she said softly.

His eyes locked on hers and she pulled his head down into a kiss. She hadn’t really meant it to go deeper than that, but there they were, moulded to each other, lips locked and tongues wrestling for dominance. Astrid was already thinking about how getting _one_ flight suit off was such a pain; _two_ would be that much worse.

Someone cleared their throat and Hiccup sprang away from Astrid.

“Gobber! Gobber. Hi, Gobber,” Hiccup stuttered, grabbing his helmet off the table and strategically placing it in front of hips.

Gobber raised an eyebrow at both of them. “Don’t you have a house?”

“We do! We do have a house, yes,” Hiccup rambled, biting his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Astrid said, ignoring them both, “Do I get a helmet?”

Hiccup’s smile was one of equal parts relief and excitement. “Yes! Of course you do! Hang on!” he said, tossing his helmet on the table and disappearing into his workroom.

Astrid shrugged at Gobber who rolled his eyes before turning his back on her and pounding away at a shield. He started singing a song about a Viking woman’s love being like a war which Astrid hadn’t heard before.

“ _She’ll hold your hand, but she’ll steal your land_ ,” he sang.

“Here!” Hiccup said excitedly, shoving something into Astrid’s hands.

She was watching Gobber curiously. “Is that--?”

Hiccup spared a glance toward Gobber. “Yeah, I wouldn’t listen to that one. It doesn’t end well. Look!”

Astrid turned her attention to the helmet in her hands. Beautifully dyed blue leather stretched over metal and topped with a series of small yellow horns, it was a work of art. It operated similarly to Hiccup’s helmet – functional and utilitarian on the inside, all dramatic flair on the outside.

“Truly, you’ve missed your calling,” she said wryly, “The gods know the people of Berk could use some help with fashion.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes and frowned. “Try it on.”

Like the rest of the suit, it fit her perfectly. It was a little disconcerting at first, to have her vision limited and her breathing stifled, but it would be welcome when flying. Thor knew she was tired of swallowing bugs in the air. Through the eyeholes of the mask, she could see Hiccup’s excited grin and she let herself smile when he bit his bottom lip. He grabbed her hand and tugged her.

“Come on, let’s try it out!”

“Hiccup! No, I said I’d try it _on_ ,” Astrid protested as he continued to pull her out of the smithy.

It was one of those times when she truly missed when they were matched for height and their strength quotient was reversed. She liked a stronger Hiccup in some respects (she blushed when she thought about those _respects_ ), but she didn’t like how he was actually _capable_ of _manhandling_ her now. Sometimes she pointed it out. Sometimes it was done by yelling and telling him that he was no better than Snotlout. She always liked the repentant look he’d give her when she did that. She had a mind to do it now.

“Hiccup, you’re being—“

He dropped her hand. “Like Snotlout?”

“Yes! You can’t just drag me along and _make_ me do something I don’t want to do.”

“But you _do_ want to do it.”

Astrid flipped the mask up, ready to tell him off for presuming to know what she did and didn’t want to do, but the words died in her mouth when she found that they were standing in front of Stormfly’s pen.

“Stormfly?”

Her dragon pawed at the ground excitedly and Astrid felt her heart pounding a little harder. She was angry suddenly – the sort of irrational rage that overtook her sometimes – because Hiccup was _right_ and she _hated_ it when he was right about her. He leaned against the entrance to Stormfly’s pen, grinning smugly. Astrid grunted. Hiccup’s grin grew and he stretched his arms up and over his head in mock casualness.

“Well, Toothless and I are going to go for a glide and I’ll just leave you here with your dragon,” he said, slowly sauntering away.

Astrid practically growled at him and he smiled beatifically.

“You’re so becoming when you snarl, milady.”

 

And so, Astrid couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. She didn’t have the best track record with falling off dragons. Usually it wasn’t of her own choice and usually she required some form of assistance. She trusted Stormfly; she did. She just wasn’t so sure that she trusted herself. As much as she’d been listening to Hiccup’s instructions, she had also been going over the various ways in which this could go horribly wrong. She wasn’t afraid of death – it was an occupational hazard of being a Viking, after all – but she was a little afraid of openly committing suicide by jumping off of a dragon. On purpose.

“—trid? Astrid?”

“What?”

“Did you get any of that?”

“Jump off, open my arms, stay still – doesn’t sound that hard,” she said, annoyed that her voice shook a little.

“And open the fin. I know you know how to do that,” he said sardonically.

Astrid shot him a haughty grin.

“Do you want me to go first?” he asked.

“No. I’ve seen you do it. I can do this.”

“I know you can.”

“Well, then,” she said, glaring at him as she slapped her helmet down, “Okay, girl, here we go!”

Astrid swung herself off her dragon’s back in much the same way she’d seen Hiccup do it a thousand times before. She fully expected to be as graceful if not more so than Hiccup; she was _Astrid Haddock_ , for Thor’s sake. She had forgotten that she had a long history of falling and flailing from the backs of dragons. Instinct is a difficult thing to mask and there she was, flailing through the sky.

“Hiccuuuuuuuup!”

“Stop flailing! Open your arms, steady yourself!”

She listened to his instructions and reminded herself that Hiccup had made this suit for her. He’d put time and effort into it. He’d sat there and stitched it and fiddled with springs to make it work for her. _Hiccup_ had made this for her. _Hiccup_. She stretched her arms out and felt the air catch the wings of the suit. Astrid struggled to keep her arms still enough to maintain flight, wobbly as it was with the way she had fallen. She reached to her chest and released the fin on her back.

“You got it,” Hiccup said, laughing.

Astrid started to laugh, too. Because this was _it_ , this was _that_ feeling. Weightlessness and magic. Flying. _Amazing_. She could hear the blood pounding through her veins; feel her muscles straining with the effort. Nothing had felt this good since the first time Hiccup had taken her up on Toothless.

 _Let me_ show _you,_ he’d said. And he had, again. He’d shown her something utterly breathtaking. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d directed Toothless upward until he came barrelling down past her only to pop up next to her, gliding smoothly. She could see the smile in his eyes through his mask when he looked at her. His fingertips grazed hers and she laughed.

“This is amazing!” she yelled.

Hiccup laughed and hollered, which made Toothless release a plasma blast and Stormfly roar behind them.

“So,” Astrid said after a while, her arms growing tired with the effort, “How do we land?”

“Yeah, I haven’t really worked that out.”

“Hiccup.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a sea stack soon!”

“Hiccup!”

“I’m working on it!”

“Stormfly!” Astrid called.

Stormfly steadied herself beneath her and Astrid let her arms fall to her sides. She landed astride Stormfly’s back with ease. She looked back to see Hiccup tilt his head and similarly follow suit with Toothless. Astrid pushed her helmet up when Toothless and Hiccup reached them; Hiccup did the same.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked her.

“Because you’re crazy.”               

Hiccup shrugged in agreement.

“But I love you because you’re crazy,” she said, directing Stormfly closer to Toothless so she could lean over and plant a small kiss on Hiccup’s lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Thank _you_ ,” he replied.


	15. She was twenty-one and he was twenty-two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter completely fails the Bechdel Test. Oh well.

                She was twenty-one and he was twenty-two. Hiccup was drunk. It was his birthday and Astrid was doing her level best not to tear his head from his body, but Hiccup was undoubtedly drunk. It wasn’t even that she hadn’t expected this of him. Well, yes, actually. Maybe that was exactly it. Hiccup didn’t _get_ drunk. Hiccup wasn’t Snotlout or Gobber or Tuffnut. Hiccup didn’t end his day with a pint of mead and a crude conversation in the Great Hall. Hiccup ended his day with a drawn out diatribe about his latest perceived failure or success. Hiccup ended his day impersonating someone. Hiccup ended his day embracing Astrid. Hiccup did not end his day _drunk._

                But, it was his birthday and Astrid was doing her _level best_ not to rip his head from his body.

                She probably wouldn’t have been so angry if she had at least known that he was off to drink. Last she’d seen him, he was taking off on Toothless to work on his map. That had been _hours_ ago. Astrid had expected him back by dinner. She’d been counting on it. He _knew_ she was no cook. He _knew_ being served food that she’d cooked was a rarity. She’d wanted to surprise him. She’d taken a goose from the stores. Gobber had let her because, really, no one argues with the Chief’s wife on the Chief’s birthday. She’d butchered it, plucked it, seasoned it and roasted it, slowly and to perfection.

                He should have been home by the time it was perfect. She’d worried when he wasn’t home by the time the skin had crisped. She’d set the goose aside, piled on her furs and jumped onto Stormfly in the hopes of finding him. No one had seen him. No one knew where he was. Astrid had stopped at the Great Hall in order to find their friends, to organize a search party, but what she’d found instead was Hiccup, surrounded by said friends. Laughing with Eret, wearing the helmet his father had given him, casual in his yak fur vest. Snotlout was loudly telling him some story and Hiccup was watching him with rapt attention and a half-smile.

                It was the half-smile that made her leave. The tranquil grin and the ease in his shoulders told her that he was finally letting go of all the worries that clouded his head, relaxing into himself. If Hiccup wanted to have a drink with friends, a laugh with friends, then far be it from her to interrupt that.

                But then there was the goose. It would keep, but not forever.

                When Astrid was putting Stormfly back in her pen, she noticed that there were lights on in Valka’s home. Valka was close to them, living in a home Hiccup had constructed for her prior to their marriage. He wanted his mother close – the mother he’d not had the luxury of knowing in his youth – and she wouldn’t tolerate living in such close quarters with them, so the house had been built. Astrid could hardly fault him that, especially after losing Stoick the way he had. Hiccup had few joys in life – Valka was one of them.

                But Valka was unexpectedly one of the joys in Astrid’s own life. A mother that she herself had been missing. Astrid trudged through the snow covered hills until she was at Valka’s door. Hesitantly, she knocked. Valka cracked the door open timidly before throwing it wide at the sight of Astrid. Valka’s arms were around her in seconds. Astrid had never been given that kind of physical affection by her parents. Astrid hadn’t been hugged and kissed and coddled. Secretly, she loved it. Valka was even more openly affectionate than her son. Astrid smiled into Valka’s shoulder.

                “Astrid! To what do I owe this visit?” Valka asked, a wide smile on her open face.

                Astrid didn’t miss the way Valka barely glanced past Astrid’s shoulder in search of Hiccup. It didn’t bother her. Valka had been denied Hiccup for so long, she was always making up for it with every second they spent together and yet she was careful not to encroach on Astrid’s and Hiccup’s space.

                “I…um…I cooked a goose for Hiccup, but it looks as though he’s eating in the Great Hall. You wouldn’t…I mean, have you eaten?”

                Valka grinned. “Not as such, my dear. Not as such. Let me get my furs.”

                There was a comfortable silence between the two women as they walked back to Hiccup’s and Astrid’s home. Astrid rarely knew such comfort except when with the Haddocks. Valka turned her face to the black sky and took in the pinpricks of light that dotted it.

                “Twenty-two years,” she sighed, “He was a difficult birth, Hiccup.”

                A grin stretched across Astrid’s face when she thought of Hiccup as a baby. She looked at Valka who smiled at her.

                “He’s a difficult adult,” Astrid joked delicately.

                Valka laughed that warm belly laugh of hers. “As was his father. Hiccup has more of Stoick in him than he realizes. He thinks he’s so different from his father, but he’s cut from the same cloth.”

                Astrid smirked. She knew exactly what Valka was talking about – the stubborn set in his jaw; the way he risked life and limb for his tribe, regardless of the likelihood of success; the way he didn’t listen to reason. Hiccup did have Stoick in him. But Astrid could see Valka there, too. The willingness to push limits, the capacity for deep love, the expressiveness in his entire being.

                “You’re in there, too,” Astrid said softly.

                Valka smiled and put her hand on Astrid’s forearm.

                “He’s lucky to have you,” she said.

                “I’m lucky to have him,” Astrid said, smiling.

                Astrid welcomed Valka into her home and set her down at the table while she prepared their food. Valka was never one for sitting, though, and she poked around in their belongings.

                “He’s been busy, I see,” Valka said picking up one of Hiccup’s many inventions.

                That one had been an attempt to stabilize his flight suit – a set of smaller fins for his wrists and forearms to help him control directional changes that had been modelled after the ridges on Toothless’ back. They had failed spectacularly and Hiccup had come home littered in bruises and scratches.

                “He’s always busy,” Astrid said, almost absently.

                He was always busy – busy with the tribe, busy with smithing, busy with Toothless. Being the wife of the Chief was busy, too. Busier than she had thought it would be. She turned to put the goose on the table and found Valka watching her with a wistful smile. Valka took a seat at the table, her eyes still on Astrid.

                “He’s always going to be busy, Astrid,” Valka said, “That’s the plight of a Chief’s wife.”

                Astrid sighed and dropped into her seat. “I know. I know he’s only doing what he needs to do. It’s just…”

                “Lonely?”

                Astrid looked up and smiled slightly. “That’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

                “Not at all,” Valka said, grinning as she bit into the goose. She moaned as she chewed, eyes closed in ecstasy. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, that boy.”

                “It’s alright?”

                “Alright? Girl, it’s perfect!”

                Astrid flushed from the praise of her mother-in-law. She felt very warm and happy sitting here with her. She felt like she could talk to Valka about anything and that it would be fine. Welcome, even. Astrid toyed with her food while Valka ate, happily vocal about every bite. It made Astrid laugh, the way Valka enjoyed _everything._

                Valka looked up eventually and noticed that Astrid hadn’t eaten much from her plate. She frowned at her and all Astrid could see was Hiccup’s expressive grimace in her face.

                “Not hungry?” Valka asked carefully.

                Astrid swallowed. She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Hiccup. She sighed and shrugged.

                “I haven’t been feeling well lately,” she said with a vague wave of her hand.

                Astrid pushed her chair away from the table and gathered up their plates to carry to the kitchen. Wordlessly, Valka rose and carried the rest of the goose over as well. Astrid could feel those wide pale eyes on her, watching her every move. She didn’t ask Astrid anything though, just silently assisted her in the kitchen. It was seamless, the way they worked together. Like two cogs in the same machine. Hiccup would like that analogy. He’d say that she’d finally been listening to him.

                Hiccup. Astrid hoped he wasn’t _too_ drunk. He was small and Snotlout and Eret _weren’t_. And Hiccup never drank. He spent their entire honey month tottering around with a sideways grin. Not that Astrid had minded. It had made it easier on her to pull him back to bed.

                “He’s fine, you know,” Valka said as though reading her mind.

                Astrid jumped at the sound of her voice. They’d been so complementary that she’d almost forgotten that Valka was still there.

                “I know. He just…he never drinks.”

                Valka laughed. “He’s Stoick’s boy. He’ll be fine.”

                “He’s your boy, too,” Astrid smirked.

                “Then he’ll be doubly fine.”

                Astrid felt Valka’s eyes on her again and turned her face to her.

                “So, how long then?” Valka asked.

                “What? I—“

                “You’re not out there drinking with him on his birthday.”

                “The goose—“

                “Nonsense. How long?”

                Astrid lowered herself back into a chair at the table. “Almost two months,” she sighed resignedly.

                Valka beamed and clapped her hands together. “Does Hiccup know?”

                Astrid smiled almost sadly and shook her head. “I was going to tell him tonight.”

                Valka’s brow furrowed as she sat sideways in a chair next to Astrid, their knees almost touching. “Why did you wait so long?”

                Astrid’s melancholy smile fell. She didn’t want to think back to that time, to the cave in that winter storm, to the pain in Hiccup’s eyes.

                “I…lost one last year,” she said haltingly.

                Valka reached a warm hand out and rubbed Astrid’s knee, catching her full attention. Valka’s smile was warmth and sadness and remembrance all at once. She ran her hand, wind-burnt and calloused, down the length of Astrid’s cheek and then drew it back into her lap. She looked past Astrid, her eyes lost in memory.

                “I lost many before Hiccup. I thought I’d lose him, too,” she said, her quiet voice in loud contrast to the crackling fire in the hearth. Her eyes met Astrid’s again and that small, sad grin returned. “I suppose I did lose him after all.”

                Astrid shook her head automatically. “No. He loves you.”

                Valka’s smile deepened. “My, you’re sweet, Astrid. It’s no wonder he loves you.”

                Astrid opened her mouth to protest and Valka held up a hand to silence her.

                “If you need anything, you come to me – do you understand? Even if it’s a shoulder to cry on.”

                Astrid nodded. “Thank you.”

                “You’ll tell him?” Valka asked.

                “Tonight, if he’s sober enough.”

                Valka laughed her rolling belly laugh and patted Astrid on the knee. “Aye—“

                She didn’t get to finish because the door burst open with a burst of snow and frigid air.

                “Astrid! Woman! I require serv—“

                Hiccup froze, whatever he was going to say dead on his tongue as he noticed his mother sitting at the table with Astrid. His mouth hung open comically, his hat askew, metal foot raised mid step.

                “Now, Hiccup. Is that any way to address your wife?” Valka said sternly, rising to her feet.

                Astrid twisted around, a wicked grin on her lips. He only called Astrid “woman” in mock seriousness when he was planning on dragging her off to bed. She was relishing him being caught in the act.

                “Mom. Mom, hi, Mom. What are you doing here?”

                Astrid stood up then, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him. “Helping me eat your birthday dinner.”

                “My birthday—“he repeated numbly, turning his eyes to the goose in the kitchen. “Oh no. I’m sorry, Astrid, I—“

                “Decided to get drunk?” she said, amused that she was able to hold up her angry tone long enough to make him squirm.  

                His shoulders slumped and she instantly regretted teasing him. She smiled at his dismal expression.

                “There’s plenty left,” she said flippantly, moving into the kitchen to prepare him a plate.

                “I think I’ll head home then. Thank you for the lovely dinner, Astrid. Remember what we talked about,” Valka said, embracing Astrid in one of her encompassing hugs. Valka turned to Hiccup and looked him up and down, shaking her head.

                “I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

                “You can barely walk,” Astrid quipped from the kitchen.

                “I can walk just fine, I’ll have you know,” he replied.

                “Better than you can fly.”

                “Oh. Oh, ho. I can out-fly—“

                “Yeah, yeah. Walk your mom home first. Then we’ll see who’s flying where,” Astrid said, grinning fondly.

                Valka looked from Astrid to Hiccup and grinned. Hiccup offered his mother his arm.

                “Right this way, milady,” he said, gesturing grandly to the door.

                Astrid rolled her eyes as she watched them go. She wiped her hands on her skirt nervously and waited patiently for his return. It wasn’t something she was used to doing – waiting or being patient. But Valka was right, he needed to know.

                It wasn’t long before he kicked open the door with flourish. He opened his mouth and then paused, looking around the great room nervously.

                “You don’t have anyone else hiding in here, do you?”

                Astrid snorted. “Just me, lover.”

                _Just me and the hitchhiker in my belly,_ she thought to herself.

                Hiccup grinned and kicked the door shut behind him.

                “Then in that case: Woman! I require servicing!”

                Astrid cocked an eyebrow at him. “That wasn’t going to work the first time and it’s not going to work now,” she said, moving into the kitchen to retrieve the plate she’d prepared for him.

                “Food?” she asked.

                “Food is a form of service,” he conceded, plopping down gracelessly into a chair.

                “Hiccup is a form of idiot.”

                “Hey! It’s my birthday!”

                “Last time I checked being born didn’t give you licence to be an idiot.” She didn’t sound as cross as her words would have suggested and Hiccup grinned at her.

                “You married this idiot.”

                Astrid sighed. “Best of a sad crop,” she jibed.

                “This goose is amazing,” Hiccup said, mouth full.

                “You should have tasted it when it was hot.”

                Hiccup winced and looked up at her, still chewing away. “Sorry.”

                She couldn’t manage to maintain an angry expression for long enough to seem serious. “It’s okay. Your mom and I talked.”

                Hiccup glanced at her. “About?”

                Astrid shrugged. “Life.”

                They were silent for a moment – Hiccup ravenously devouring his goose and Astrid thinking of the best way to tell him. She thought that it might be best if she just _told_ him. It was always better when she just said what was on her mind. Yes, that would definitely be the best approach.

                “I’m pregnant.”

                Hiccup coughed and sputtered, choking on the mouthful of food he had. Astrid jumped up and whacked him on the back. He grabbed his cup of water and swallowed it noisily, still coughing. His eyes locked onto hers, questioning and incredulous.

                “I guess I could have timed that better,” she said.

                Hiccup widened his eyes in agreement and swallowed more water. “Unless you were trying to kill off its father—“

                He froze again, comically, as he had coming through the front door. It was the word _father_ , Astrid realized. More specifically the application of it to himself. She watched him carefully, her heart pounding hard in her chest.

                “Are you…happy?” she asked, her voice small.

                Hiccup looked up over his shoulder at her and for a moment she saw the boy she’d fallen in love with in those big green eyes. Smart and stubborn and understatedly fierce. But also afraid and undeniably brave. The smile that stretched lopsidedly across his face told her everything she needed to know before he even spoke. He stood up clumsily – a combination of mead and an innate lack of grace – and wrapped his arms around her.

                “Of course I’m happy,” he laughed into her hair.

                Astrid clung to him, tears biting at the corners of her eyes. Was she _crying_? But she was _laughing_ , too. Hiccup pulled back, laughing and beaming. He kissed her, hard and sloppy and wonderful. Astrid tangled her fingers in his hair and let herself get pulled away into his kisses, his gentle touches, his smiles.

                Later, tangled up in their bed linens, sated and warm, Astrid sighed, “It’s your birthday. How come I feel like I got all the gifts?”

                “Are you kidding me?” Hiccup mumbled happily into her shoulder, “This was the best birthday _ever_.”


	16. He was twenty-two and she was twenty-one.

       He was twenty-two and she was twenty-one. Hiccup was furious. He couldn’t move fast enough. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about with Eel Pox sweeping through the village, now he had to worry about Astrid’s bravado on top of that. What the Hel was she thinking? Two months. She had two months left. She couldn’t wait _two months_? Gothi didn’t want her doing _anything_ extra. She should be in bed; she should be _tied to the damn bed._ But no, instead she was saddling up Stormfly and getting ready to do a lap around the cursed island. _Hel’s rotten teeth_ , Hiccup was angry with her.

        It wasn’t the first time he was glad for Toothless’ speed and he doubted that it would be the last time. Hiccup had to admit that it wasn’t the first time he’d been angry with Astrid for being reckless, but it was probably the most _intense_ time.

        “Why would she _do_ that?” he muttered to himself as he and Toothless sped on a rapid course to the other side of the island.

         Hiccup could see them from up here, Stormfly’s blue scales catching the bright sun’s rays. Astrid turned at the whistling sound of the approaching Night Fury. She twisted back to Stormfly and continued adjusting the straps on the saddle. Toothless landed and Hiccup threw himself off him and took angry, stomping steps toward her.

         “What are you doing?”

          He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a shout, but it had. Astrid glared at him.

          “I’m going to do a lap around the island,” she said evenly.

          “No, you’re not.”

           She narrowed her eyes at him and settled her foot into the stirrup, pulling herself up onto Stormfly with some effort.

          “Astrid!”

          She glowered at him. “You need eyes out there, Hiccup. You can’t do everything.”

          “I don’t need _your_ eyes out there. Get down.”

          “Who else is going to go?”

          “I’ll worry about that. Get down,” he repeated, struggling to keep his voice from rising in volume again.

            Gods, she was stubborn. If this child had half of either of their stubbornness, it would be Hel to manage.

           “I’ll be fine, Hiccup.”

           “Gothi said—“

           “It’s a flight around Berk! It’s not like I’m going to take on Outlaw Island!”

           “And what happens if you see Outlaws out there? What then?”

            He’d taken hold of Stormfly’s saddle, a steadying hand on the dragon’s side. Astrid shrugged.

            “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

            “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Hiccup muttered.

            Astrid scoffed and threw her hands up. “I’ll come back, obviously. I’ll get back up.”

            “You’ll hand it off to someone else,” he said. His voice had taken on the authoritative tone that Astrid referred to as his ‘Chief Voice’. She hated it.

            “Don’t you use the Chief Voice with me.”

            “Astrid, get off of Stormfly.”

            Astrid shook her head and laughed bitterly. Hiccup knew there was a better way to deal with this; he knew that giving Astrid direct commands was _not_ the most effective way. He didn’t have time to wheedle with her. It all happened too fast. He reached for her arm at the same time that she kicked Stormfly off the ground. His hand found hers and he held tight, pulled her off balance. Hiccup didn’t have time to register what had happened until it was happening. Astrid fell, sideways and rapidly from the saddle, hard into the ground. There was an audible, soft thud when she hit. Then she’d lain there, on her side, unmoving and Hiccup couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe or move or scream or do _anything_. All at once he did all those things.

            “Astrid!”

             He was next to her, turning her. Blood on the corner of her mouth, closed eyes. She was breathing. Thank the gods, she was breathing.

            “Astrid? _Astrid_?” He kept repeating her name, his voice growing more and more hysterical.

             Stormfly landed and walked around nervously. Hiccup wanted to shout at the dragon, to tell her to back off, but he couldn’t. Astrid wasn’t waking. Astrid had fallen and she wasn’t waking and it was his fault.

             "Astrid,” he moaned, his tears falling on her face.

              Her eyelids twitched. Astrid blinked her eyes open.

             “Hiccup?”

             “Astrid! Thank the gods.”

              He hugged her tighter than he probably should have, rocking her reflexively. She moaned and tried to push upright. She paused mid-motion and gripped at the swell of her belly. There was a gasp of pain and then an outright scream. Hiccup’s heart pounded erratically in his chest.

              “Astrid?”

              “The baby,” she managed.

              He was carrying her and mounting Toothless without thinking about it. None of this was registering. Astrid was hurt; the baby was hurt; it was his fault. He needed to get her to Gothi. He needed to get her there _now._ He needed to go back in time and undo everything that had just happened. Why couldn’t he have just let her go? Why had he tried to grab her arm? Why was this happening?

              Hiccup kicked open the door to Gothi’s hut only to find it empty. The Eel Pox. Of course. Gothi was at the Great Hall. He couldn’t bring Astrid there. Gods, that stream of blood from her mouth. He wiped it with his sleeve and she moaned. He settled her onto the bed in the main room.

             “Astrid?” he whispered, kneeling beside her.

              She was weaving in and out of consciousness. He had no idea what to do. Hiccup ran through the door of the hut and looked for someone, anyone. He couldn’t leave Astrid alone, he _wouldn’t_. Everyone was at the Great Hall. He should have told Snotlout to follow him to Astrid instead of bounding off to play the hero. He hadn’t. He had no back up. Astrid had always been his back up. What do you do when your back up needs back up?

               “You back them up, idiot,” he muttered to himself. “Toothless! Get Gothi. Now!”

               Toothless bounded through the streets of the village and out of sight. Hiccup fell to his knees beside Astrid and held her hand. Beads of sweat had formed on her brow, her lips had lost colour. If she died, he would die. If the baby didn’t make it, he would never forgive himself. But if he lost Astrid, he’d have no point to continue. She mumbled something and he kissed her hand.

                Where was Toothless? What was _taking_ so long? Damn the Eel Pox. Damn all of Berk. _Astrid_ needed help _now._ Hiccup stood up and stormed to the door, glaring at the empty street as though it would make Toothless just _appear_ with Gothi. Astrid cried out behind him and he rushed back to her.

                “Hiccup,” she muttered, eyes closed.

                He pressed his lips to her clammy hand. “I’m here.”

                “The baby’s coming.”

                Hiccup bit his bottom lip so hard he was sure it would bleed. “Gothi’s on her way,” Hiccup whispered, hoping it was true.

                The door to the hut opened and Gothi hurried in, glaring at Hiccup. _What happened?_ She didn’t have to scratch runes into the ground for him to understand the question on her face. Hiccup stood up and stepped away from the bed so that the healer could examine Astrid.

                “She fell off her dragon. It was my fault. I _pulled_ her. Gods, please help her. She said the baby’s coming.”

                Gothi glared at him and then turned back to Astrid. Hiccup watched in abject horror as she opened Astrid’s eyes and peered into them, silently shaking her head. She put her hands on Astrid’s belly and shook her head. The door to the hut burst open again and Hiccup looked over his shoulder at the tall, reedy girl that Gothi had taken on as an apprentice. Her name was Milkweed and she was three or four years younger than Hiccup. She flashed him a sympathetic, worried smile.

                Gothi made a number arm gestures, pointing and directing Milkweed toward a shelf of herbs. Hiccup stood uselessly in the middle of the room until Gothi swung her staff at him and pointed angrily at the door. She was throwing him out. He looked at Astrid, pale and sweating and being force fed medicines by Milkweed. _I did this_ , he thought.

                “I don’t want to go,” he said numbly.

                Gothi hit him hard in the shin with her staff, but Hiccup barely felt it. Milkweed looked up at him.

                “She says you’re in the way,” Milkweed said, “She says you’ll be helping more if you prayed to Freyja and waited outside.”

                Astrid tossed her head to the side, a strange cry escaping her throat. Hiccup’s breath hitched, tears streaming down his face unchecked. Gothi gave him a rough shove toward the door with her staff. He went, numbly and sat on the step outside of the hut listening to Astrid’s muffled cries and burying his face in his hands.

                “What’s happened? Is it the baby?”

                Hiccup looked up, face wet. Valka dropped into a kneel in front of him, warm hands on his face, in his hair. Her eyes scanned his face.

                “What happened?” she asked again, her voice quiet.

                “It’s my fault,” Hiccup said shakily, “If she dies, it’s my fault.”

                Valka wrapped her arms around her son, but Hiccup didn’t feel like he deserved her sympathy. Astrid cried out again and Hiccup flinched.

                “Tell me what happened, exactly,” Valka said, her voice heavy with command.

                “We were arguing. She wanted to patrol; I wanted her to stay on the ground. I grabbed her arm when Stormfly lifted off—“

                Hiccup couldn’t tell her anymore because a sob caught in his throat. Valka pressed her lips to his forehead.

                “It was an accident, Hiccup.”

                Hiccup shook his head vehemently. It wasn’t an _accident_. He’d _pulled_ her. Why had he felt the need to put his hands on her? Why couldn’t he have been calmer? Why couldn’t he have talked her down? Why had he argued with her? Now he might lose her.

                “I’m going inside to see what I can do to help,” Valka said softly, her hand stroking his hair.

                The door closed behind her with a clatter and Hiccup stared at his hands, tears drying on his face. Toothless nudged him with his nose and warbled worriedly. Hiccup rested his hand on Toothless’ nose. He wished he had something he could say to the dragon; he wished he had comfort in him to give. He had nothing to give. He was numb and sick with worry. Astrid was in this hut, crying out in pain, and he had done that.

                Hiccup didn’t even acknowledge when Gobber came to sit next to him. He didn’t think he could acknowledge anything at all.

                “Baby’s coming early,” Gobber said. It wasn’t a question.

                “It’s my fault,” Hiccup mumbled. It was becoming his mantra. _I did this. It’s my fault. I did this. It’s my fault._

                “No one’s fault but Freyja’s.”

                “She fell off her dragon. It was my fault.”

                “Was it your fault she was on the dragon?”

                Hiccup turned and looked at Gobber blankly. “What?”

                “Did you put her on the dragon?”

                “No.”

                “Well, can’t all be your fault then, can it?”

                “ _I pulled her off_ ,” Hiccup insisted emphatically.

                “On purpose?”

                “Yes. No. I just wanted her to stay grounded. I didn’t mean for it…Stormfly lifted off…my hand was on her arm.”

                “Hiccup.”

                “I didn’t mean to,” Hiccup continued.

                “Hiccup. Did I ever tell you about the day you were born?”

                Hiccup shook his head. His face felt stiff and hard, unpleasantly dry.

                “Oh, you were born early, too. Couldn’t do anything the normal way, even then. But you shouldn’t have been. Stoick had been on a raid. He paced and roared the whole time. He wanted to get back to Berk. Back to Val and back to you in her belly. He was young and stupid, much like you are now,” Gobber explained.

                “Thanks, I feel so much better,” Hiccup said dryly.

                “He was so excited to be home that he bashed open the door to his house and knocked Val clear to the floor. At first everything _seemed_ fine. Val laughed it off; they had a happy reunion. But your mother, oh she’s a stubborn one. She didn’t tell Stoick about the pains in her belly. She just laughed and carried on like nothing was wrong, “Gobber paused to sigh at the memory, “She went into labour in the middle of the night. You were two months early, Hiccup. No one thought you’d make it. No one but Stoick. But do you know what he did the whole time Val was in labour?”

                Hiccup shook his head. He couldn’t imagine his father in his own predicament, guilty and worried about his mother. All he could see was Stoick the Vast, strong and unwavering and constant.

                “He sat where you’re sitting now, crying into his hands and saying ‘it’s my fault’.”

                Hiccup drew in a sharp breath. “It was an accident,” he whispered.

                Gobber nodded. “So is this, Hiccup.”

                Hiccup drew in a long breath.

                “You couldn’t have stopped Astrid, Hiccup. Thor knows you should know that by now.”

                “I shouldn’t have grabbed her.”

                “Nope, you shouldn’t have. Remember that in the future,” Gobber said, knocking Hiccup in the shoulder with his good hand, “You married her because she has a mind of her own. You’re going to have to find ways to work with that mind and it won’t be with your hands.”

                “What if –“

                “Nuh uh. We’re not going to talk ‘what ifs’, Hiccup. There is no ‘what if’, only ‘what is’. And what is happening now is a lot of waiting.”

                They sat there for what felt like hours. The sun had set and the night’s chill had taken root. Hiccup was glad he was sitting there in the cold, listening to Gobber whistling tunelessly beside him. It seemed fitting. It seemed deserved. He wondered if Gobber had done the same thing with his father when he was born. Sat there and waited. There was a comfort in his presence beside him, as though Stoick were there by extension. Hiccup wished Stoick was there. _I did that, too_ , he thought. Then he shook his head. He couldn’t spiral down there. He could hear Astrid’s voice: _“Drago did that, Hiccup.”_ They’d had this argument many, many times.

                Astrid’s cries had stopped sometime in the night. Hiccup didn’t know whether he should be worried or glad. Her pain wasn’t something he could handle and every moan, every whimper made him nauseous. But her silence could mean something far worse and he wasn’t ready for that either. His head whipped around when the door opened, a tired looking Valka stood, blood on her clothes. So much blood. Hiccup couldn’t bring himself to look at her face for fear of the worst, so he focused on an angry circle of blood on her overdress. Astrid’s blood. He felt sick.

                “Hiccup, come inside,” she said softly.

                His leg felt leaden and stiff as he pushed himself upright. He still couldn’t look at Valka’s face; he stared at the ground as he walked into Gothi’s hut. His steps were slow and heavy, as though his body was trying to protect him from the horrible possibilities that could await him.

                “Hiccup,” a familiar voice said.

                His eyes snapped up to the bed, where Astrid was leaning upright against the headboard, a bundle in her arms. She smiled at him – a weary, thin smile – and then looked down to the bundle in her arms. Hiccup approached slowly and crouched down beside Astrid.

                “Meet your son,” she whispered.

                Hiccup fought against the smile that tugged at his lips. He didn’t think he deserved it, not after everything that had happened. But the baby was tiny and pink and _perfect._ He was too small, Hiccup knew; he was too early. Hiccup had been too early, too, so that meant nothing. No, this child had the genes of Stoick the Vast and Fearless Finn Hofferson; this child would thrive despite his early entrance. Hiccup was sure of it.

                “He’s perfect,” Hiccup breathed.

                “He’s a little small, don’t you think?” Astrid said wryly, “Another Hiccup.”

                Hiccup looked up at her face – pale and exhausted, her pupils were uneven and seeing that made his smile falter.

                “I’m so sorry, Astrid.”

                “Don’t.”

                “It was my fault.”

                “Please. Not now. Don’t. It was both of our faults, Hiccup. And I’m _fine_ and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the _Fourth_ is fine, too.”

                Hiccup smiled despite himself. It was the best possible outcome of the worst possible situation.                              

                Gothi insisted that Astrid stay in Gothi’s hut for the time being. Her brain was bruised and she needed to be woken frequently in the night. A wet nurse could easily be brought in if necessary for Hiccup the Fourth and Gothi wanted to keep an eye on the baby since he was so early. She didn’t like the way he breathed yet. Valka had tried to convince Hiccup to go home and get some rest, but he refused stalwartly. He wouldn’t leave Astrid’s side. He wouldn’t walk away from his child.

                Hiccup leaned against a support beam next to the bed and watched Astrid nursing their baby. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes, just for a moment. Only for a moment.


	17. She was twenty-two and he was twenty-two.

               She was twenty-two and he was twenty-two. The baby had forced a wedge between them, Astrid was sure. It wasn’t that Hiccup wasn’t there for her and little Hic; he was. It wasn’t that he had become distant in any way; he hadn’t. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t touching her; he was. But he wasn’t touching her in the same way. He wasn’t lingering. He wasn’t _firm_.

                It had taken Astrid a while to recognize the change; she hadn’t really been amenable to touching immediately after the baby had been born. She’d been tired, irritable, and sore. Her breasts ached from feeding Hic and she’d torn when he was born – intimacy had been out of the question. Between those ailments and the constant demands of the new baby, intimacy had _really_ been out of the question. So she hadn’t noticed how gentle Hiccup’s hands had become, how fleeting. She hadn’t noticed that he barely touched her more than was absolutely necessary.

                As time passed and Hic settled into a regular sleeping pattern, Astrid started to feel more like herself again and less like a walking food supply. She’d managed to get out to the woods this afternoon to throw her axe for the first time in _months_. Never had she been more grateful for Valka’s closeness and eagerness to spend time with the baby. If someone had told Astrid a year ago that throwing her axe in _silence_ would be so _thrilling_ , she would have laughed them right out of the Great Hall. When she’d returned home in time to feed Hic, Valka had offered to stay longer.

                “You should really get a flight in with Stormfly,” Valka said, taking the sleeping baby from Astrid and rocking him tenderly.

                Astrid looked up from the baby in Valka’s arms and blinked at her. “She’s been getting her exercise between you and Eret,” Astrid said.

                “But you haven’t.” Pale green, knowing eyes locked onto Astrid’s face. Valka grinned, the tiniest, slightest of things. “You’ve probably got a couple of hours before this little devil is hungry again.”

                Astrid’s smile felt brighter than the sun on her face. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

                Valka laughed quietly. “Not at all,” she paused and looked at the baby, her smile faltering, “I missed all this.”

                Astrid knew she was talking about Hiccup. Valka had never come out and said it, not directly, but Astrid could see it on the older woman’s face when she held Hic – regret. She had missed Hiccup’s childhood. She hadn’t watched him grow; she hadn’t held him in her arms and cooed him to sleep. It was almost as though Hic was her second chance at something precious and now unattainable. Astrid certainly was grateful for the extra set of hands around the house and for these small pockets of freedom that Valka was allotting her with her help.

                “Do you know where Hiccup is?” Astrid asked, pulling out Stormfly’s saddle.

                “I think he said something about repairs to the Gunnarson house,” Valka replied.

                Astrid took purposeful strides across the room and ran her fingers along the baby’s barely fuzzy head. His hair was coming in as blond as any Hofferson ever was, but his eyes were undoubtedly as green as his father’s. She bent to press her lips to his head.

                “I’ll be back soon, my little dragon,” she whispered.

                She looked up meaningfully at Valka. “Thank you.”

                Valka grinned and waved her free arm at her, shooing Astrid from the house.

                When Stormfly saw Astrid approaching with her saddle, the Nadder danced happily from foot to foot.

                “Hi, girl!” Astrid said brightly, patting the dragon fondly, “It’s been a while, huh?”

                The Nadder cooed and nudged Astrid with her beak. Astrid laughed, wrapping her arms around the dragon’s neck.

                “I missed you, too,” she murmured.

                Astrid made quick work of the saddle. She hesitated before climbing up onto Stormfly’s back. The last time she’d climbed up – she didn’t really want to think about it. It had been an accident. It had turned out fine in the end. She was fine; Hic was fine; Hiccup was…markedly guilty, even still. Astrid sighed. She hoped she could entice him to ride with her, to escape Berk for an hour, at least. They hadn’t been alone in months. She missed him. She missed _sex_ , if she were to be completely honest.

                “Come on, Stormfly. Let’s go find Hiccup.”

                Hiccup was exactly where Valka had said he’d be – fixing the Gunnarson house, directing Snotlout and Fishlegs from the ground, Toothless preening behind him. Toothless saw them approach first and bounded toward Stormfly as they landed. Hiccup had turned to see what the commotion was about and had broken into a quick jog, ready with a steadying hand to help Astrid from Stormfly.

                Astrid grinned at him, her hand still in his even though her feet were firmly on the ground. “You didn’t have to do that.”

                “I know, I just…” Hiccup trailed off and shrugged.

                Astrid reached around and grabbed his other hand, looking up at him and grinning slyly. Concern bathed Hiccup’s features and she could see dark circles under his eyes. The lack of sleep was weighing on him, too.

                “Is everything alright? Hic—“

                “Is fine. Your mom is with him,” Astrid grinned lopsidedly, “She’s given me some time off. I got out to the woods today to throw my axe; I’ve flown Stormfly; and now,” she paused, toying with Hiccup’s fingers. She flicked her eyes up to his. “Can you get away? Just for an hour.”

                Hiccup’s brow furrowed. “Astrid—“

                “An hour. That’s all I’m asking,” she said, stepping in to close the distance between them. She balanced herself on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Maybe we can fly to Mount Ascup,” she suggested.

                Hiccup pulled back, his eyes scanning her face, mouth twitching up at the corner. She almost had him. Astrid ran her hand up his arm and circled it where his armour was thinnest, knowing he’d feel the heat of her hand through the leather.

                “Please?”

                Hiccup bit his bottom lip, barely deliberating. His eyes were locked on hers as he called back, “Fishlegs? You’re in charge.”

                Whatever protestation Fishlegs had, they didn’t stay to listen. They were both back on their dragons – Hiccup insistently assisting Astrid onto Stormfly in a way that was both endearing and irritating to her – and out of there before anyone had a chance to stop them. Once they were up in the sky, Astrid let out a great whoop, stretching her arms upward.

                “Astrid! Be careful!” Hiccup insisted, staring at her with too wide eyes.

                Astrid shot him an incredulous grin, but brought her hands down. “It’s been so long. This feels _so good_.”

                If flying felt this good, what would sex be like? Astrid glanced over to Hiccup to find his jaw set and his eyes determinedly turned forward.

                “Hiccup,” she called.

                He looked at her and she grinned. He grinned back at her, although it was slow to appear. They landed on Ascup and Astrid jumped off Stormfly before Hiccup had a chance to run over and catch her. She frowned at him and his worried expression, then her face softened.

                “I’m fine,” she promised.

                Hiccup looked away and she closed the distance between them, one hand curling behind his back, the other snaking into his hair. She pulled his head down to meet hers and kissed him. It was a sloppy kiss, a kiss that was backed by too much passion and a discernible lack of practice. Hiccup’s hands came up to her shoulders and rested there, light as baby Terrors. He broke the kiss and swallowed.

                “Astrid,” he started, but his eyes were dark with desire and time was limited. They could talk later. She reached for him again.

                Their lips met neatly this time, almost chastely. Astrid ran her tongue along Hiccup’s closed lips, urging them open and delving into his mouth. He started to relax against her, hands sliding down her back and holding her close. _This. Yes, this_ , Astrid thought. This _is what I’ve been missing._ Astrid pulled on him insistently, trying to tug him down to the ground. Hiccup resisted and broke their kiss again.

                “Astrid.”

                “What?” Astrid mumbled, nuzzling his neck.

                “Is this really okay?”

                “What’s not okay about it?”

                “I don’t know. Are you,” he paused and rolled his shoulders in a way she would have made fun of had she not been so focused on dragging him to the ground with her, “ _ready?_ ”

                Astrid stepped back, grinning and pulled her dress over her head. She was glad she hadn’t bothered with any of her armour. Hiccup’s cheeks flushed at the sight of her and she rolled her eyes, stepping forward and tugging at his armour. Hiccup seemed frozen for a moment, but then his hands came up to catch hers.

                “Astrid.”

                She looked up at him. “What?” she asked, irritated.

                “I don’t know—“

                “ _What_ don’t you know, Hiccup? I’m _naked_. Is that not enough for you?”

                He didn’t answer and Astrid returned to tugging at his armour shoving it off of him incompletely before kissing his skin beneath. She pressed her hands into the tops of his shoulders and he finally conceded, sinking to the ground with her. Astrid kissed his skin – so much skin that she hadn’t touched in so long. Gods, she missed touching him. She couldn’t keep her hands off of his body; she wanted to kiss every inch of him. And he – he wasn’t touching her _at all._

                Astrid sat back, his pants half removed, and considered his flushed face. He wasn’t as relaxed as she was used to him being. He wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. She had to wonder – was it her? Was there something wrong with her body since she’d had the baby? Did he not find her attractive anymore? Her body had changed, certainly. Her hips had broadened and never really gone back to the slimness they’d held before; her breasts were bigger, heavy with milk, stretched in places. Her belly was stretched, but not as badly as some she’d seen. But – was this too much for Hiccup? Were these changes too much?

                “Is there something wrong?” she asked, her voice small.

                Hiccup blinked at her and swallowed. He wanted her; she could see that with her own two eyes, but—

                “No, nothing,” he said, his voice cracking.

                “Then why aren’t you,” she paused, hesitant to even ask the question, “ _touching_ me?”

                His eyes flitted to her face and then away, his jaw clenched again. Astrid stared at him, waiting

for him to say something, anything. Without looking at her, he brought his hands up to her hips hesitantly, his fingers barely brushing her skin. He swallowed hard again. Astrid felt tears pricking at her eyes and she shook her head slowly, as though her disbelief would negate what was happening. She pushed up and away from him, stalking toward where she dropped her dress and furiously scooping it up off the ground.

                “Astrid!” Hiccup called after her.

                He struggled to his feet and chased after her, catching her arm in his hand and turning her toward him. His fingers fell away from her rapidly and his eyes studied her face in concern. Astrid couldn’t stop the humiliated tears from rolling down her cheeks and she held her dress in front of her chest in an attempt to hide from him. She’d never felt ashamed of her body before this moment.

                “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking and desperate.

                Astrid just shook her head at him wordlessly, tears flowing harder. Hiccup’s whole body slumped and he reached a tentative hand out to her, fingers falling short of touching her.

                “Astrid,” he whispered as though her name were a plea for understanding in and of itself.

                Astrid started to pull her dress over her head clumsily, but Hiccup caught her wrist and held on to it. His touch was light as a whisper. He stepped closer to her. Astrid hadn’t been this confused by his behaviour since…well, since _ever_. He’d always been transparent and that’s what made her heart hurt even more. If he was being transparent now, then he simply didn’t _want_ her. Even if his body presented evidence to the contrary.

                Astrid stared at the collar of his half-removed jacket fixedly. She couldn’t look in those vibrant green eyes now and say what she needed to say.

                “You love me, but you don’t want me.”

                Astrid’s voice held such a strong conviction that it surprised even her.

                “What? No, I—“

                Astrid shook her head. “You’ve been strange for months. Since the baby was born. You can barely stand to touch me.”

                She was crying now in earnest and she hated it. Astrid so rarely cried. She hated the weakness it presented. She hated the vulnerability that she felt. But right now, she felt like her world was collapsing because if _Hiccup_ didn’t want her anymore, what was she supposed to do? How could she continue knowing that he wasn’t interested in her fully? He loved her, but what did that even mean anymore?

                “I’m afraid,” he said, his voice wavering and quiet, cutting through her thoughts violently.

                Astrid’s eyes snapped up to his face and she swallowed a lingering sob. “Afraid? Of what?”

                Hiccup swallowed again and stared at the ground between them. His fingers were still feather-light against her wrist, tethering her to that place, to him.

                “I pulled you off Stormfly,” he said, “I did that.”

                “Hiccup, that was an accident,” she sighed, exasperated that they were having this argument _again_.

                “I know. _I know_ _that._ But maybe you were right. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten so used to just _pulling_ you around,” he paused and shook his head, smiling bitterly, “Even Snotlout wouldn’t have been stupid enough to pull you off your dragon.”

                Astrid ducked her head down to catch his eye. “You didn’t mean to, Hiccup. Even Snotlout wouldn’t be stupid enough to jump on a dragon seven months pregnant.”

                A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Hiccup’s mouth. “Now _that_ is a terrifying thought.”

                Astrid grinned just slightly, her face tight with dried tears. As they gazed at each other, Astrid felt the tension that had been closing in on them for months crack and give way. With his free hand, Hiccup reached up and wiped what was left of a tear from her cheekbone. His fingers were so tender and warm against her skin.

                “I don’t want to hurt you again,” he whispered.

                Astrid drew in a long breath and then pulled back her arm and hammered her fist into his shoulder, hard.

                “Ow!” he hissed, taking a step back from the force of impact.

                “As if you could hurt me. I’m a Hofferson.”

                “You’re a Haddock now,” he reminded.

                “I’ll tell you something, Hiccup. Falling off Stormfly hurt less than giving birth to that big-headed Haddock baby.”

                Hiccup laughed despite himself and Astrid smiled. She pressed her palm to his chest just over his heart.

                “I miss you.”

                Hiccup finally let go of her wrist, tracing his fingers along the side of her face. Astrid closed her eyes and pushed her head into his palm.

                “I want you to touch me,” she breathed, “I won’t break.”

                “You promise?” Hiccup barely whispered.

                Astrid opened her eyes and tilted her head upward. She let go of her dress and reached up to kiss him.

                “I promise,” she whispered before their lips met.


	18. He was twenty-four and she was twenty-three.

He was twenty-four and she was twenty-three. The council talks had run late. Hic was sick with a fever and Astrid hadn't come. Hiccup was glad that Astrid hadn't come. When Camicazi had flown in from Breakneck Bog, he'd known the news wouldn't be good. He'd expected the worst and received news even worse than that. Hiccup had the tribe to think of; he had his friends to think of; he had his family to think of and still, he was glad she hadn't been there.

Hiccup had been able to see it in Cami's face as she flew in. There was no wild grin; no jubilant wave. Only sorrow and hardship.

"What's happened?"

Those had been the first words out of his mouth. Camicazi had looked away and shaken her head, her face pale and worried. In all the years that he had known the Heir to the Bog-Burglars, he had never – _never –_ known Cami to fall speechless. She took in a deep breath and looked Hiccup in the eye.

"I don't know, but you have to see this."

Hiccup had flown out with Cami then to a set of islands south of Bog-Burglar Islands. Even when the Vikings had been at war with the dragons for centuries, even when it was at its worst, there had never been carnage like this. The damage was consistent with a dragon attack, but it was almost too organized, too _specific._ Dragons weren't known to kill off whole villages and yet the dead were uncountable, their bodies ravaged and unidentifiable at times. Hiccup had seen a lot in his day, but this turned his stomach.

He'd called the council to meeting upon their return to Berk and it had been hours of discussion. Hiccup was hesitant to war as they didn't even know who they were warring with – dragons or men. Drago's face burned in his memory; the madness of it, the anger he carried. They'd never found his body and Hiccup's mother seemed to think this was his handy work. For the first time, he was starting to understand what his father had meant four years ago – how some people won't be reasoned with. It was fair to say that people who could do that to other people weren't very likely to listen to words. But declaring war didn't exactly favour longevity either.

It wasn't exactly a problem that could be solved in a few mere hours by a council of scared Hooligans. They would need to call a meeting of all the tribes; they would need to call a Thing. Even though calling a Thing now wouldn't save those that had been lost. Calling a Thing now wouldn't undo what had been done, or what Hiccup had seen with his own eyes. Calling a Thing now was all they could do.

So, Hiccup was glad that Astrid hadn't been in that council meeting. He was doubly glad that she hadn't been on the flight with him and Camicazi. He was glad she hadn't seen what he'd seen. And not because she was fragile or delicate – the gods knew that she had a stronger stomach than him – but because that meant when he went home tonight, she would be devoid of those images. She would be innocent of the carnage and the violence and the gore of it all. Astrid had been _spared_ what he himself hadn't been and maybe, with her, he could forget about it for a few selfish minutes. Maybe he could hold her and breathe in what was precious to him and know that she was safe, at least for now.

The flight home was expectedly sombre. Even Toothless could appreciate the disturbing nature of the scenes they'd witnessed today and he respected Hiccup's silence. The dragon followed him into the house, gently nudging and prodding Hiccup until he smiled, just slightly.

"It's okay, bud," Hiccup whispered, his eyes locking with Toothless', "Somehow things will be okay."

Toothless sat by the fire and watched after Hiccup as he climbed the stairs laboriously, as though the weight of the world rested on his narrow shoulders. Hiccup paused at the door of Hic's room – Hiccup's childhood bedroom – took a deep breath and pushed it open. Hic was, for lack of a better word, perfect. He was a shining little beacon of hope in Hiccup's life – a blond, green-eyed terror whose curiosity far outmatched what Hiccup's had been at that age. Hiccup crept into the room, cringing as his prosthetic creaked and clunked. Hic slept on as his father collapsed onto the stool next to the bed. His son was ill, although they'd been assured that it wasn't something to worry about. Hiccup's hand dwarfed the boy's forehead, but he smiled when he realized that the fever had broken.

 _This_ was what Hiccup needed to fight for – his son, his family. _This_ is what needed protecting. He needed to protect the tribe so that his son might grow up and lead his people in a better time. He needed to ensure that what was Hic's birthright survived and thrived. Again, for the first time, Hiccup felt like he could understand some of the things Stoick had done for him, some of the lessons that had been shared and sacrifices made. _A chief protects his own._ Those words were made even truer by what Hiccup had seen today. Hiccup pressed a kiss into the sleeping boy's forehead and stood up.

"Sleep well, little prince," he whispered.

For a long time, Hiccup stood in the doorway of his own bedroom watching Astrid sleep, listening to her even breathing and marveling in the molten gold of her hair in the lamplight. Astrid was a different person when she was asleep. Hiccup could almost forget how fierce and capable she was when he saw her there, vulnerable and prone. In a heartbeat, she could be gone. Any wrong moves from him, and she'd be taken forever. His stomach clenched and his heart tightened at the thought of a life without Astrid. He'd come close before and he never wanted to feel that utter despair again.

With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way to the bed and perched on the edge next to her. His fingers shook when he reached out to brush them against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and he almost regretted touching her. _Almost_.

"Hiccup?" she murmured, her voice sleep-muffled and heavy.

His lips quirked upward just slightly. If he was feeling himself, he would have made some quip about men waking her in the night who _weren't_ her husband. She would have hit him in the shoulder. He would have kissed her until she stopped raging. But he wasn't himself tonight and that tiny quirk of his lips was all he had to offer. His silence seemed to awaken her further and she rolled onto her back, blinking back sleep.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice clear and strong.

Hiccup shook his head marginally and pleaded with his eyes. _Not now. Please, Astrid. Not now._ Her frown was a pretty thing from the crease between her eyebrows to the downturn of her lips. Hiccup wondered if he'd ever told her that. He probably hadn't. His hand moved of its own accord, a finger brushing the corner of her mouth. She watched him with concerned eyes and all he could think was that they were forget-me-not blue.

Astrid didn't push him to speak. He loved her for the patience and steadiness that she reserved only for him and their son. If it were anyone else, she'd have slammed them to the floor and beaten the information out of them. With Hiccup she was willing to wait and he was grateful for that. Because he wanted this peaceful moment with her. He wanted to touch her and hold her as though nothing was wrong with the world. He wanted to make love to her and make-believe that war wasn't coming; that horror wasn't lurking around the bend.

Astrid's pulled herself up to sitting and ran her fingers up his arm until she could squeeze his shoulder gently. Hiccup turned into her and leaned hesitantly to kiss her. He felt his world crumble when their lips met. It was always the same, even after all these years. Astrid made him fall apart and then come back together again, stronger than before, each and every time they touched. A love like this probably wasn't fair. A love like this eclipsed all the hardships and pain he'd ever encountered. Astrid made him whole again. Always. Forever.

Astrid didn't move away when the kiss broke. She stayed there, her breath against his skin, her eyes focused on his. Without looking away, without moving away, Astrid pulled herself into a kneeling position and pressed her lips to his forehead. Hiccup closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned his head into her shoulder, letting her knot her fingers in his hair and breathing in the scent of her. She smelled clean and familiar; she smelled like _home_. Astrid leaned away from him and he looked up at her. Her smile was sad and warm at the same time. Sitting back on her heels, she ran a tender hand down the length of his body. Gentle hands worked at the fastenings of his prosthetic, the familiar pattern of ministrations comforting to Hiccup. The relief at its removal was as profound as his relief at leaving the council meeting. Astrid's fingers pressed and kneaded with delicate precision sending shockwaves of sensation so extreme, so _carnal_ that a groan escaped Hiccup's lips.

His hand closed around her upper arm as he pulled her into him, kissing her with desperate, fervent lips. He was fifteen again and she was kissing him in the Great Hall at Snoggletog. He was eighteen again and she was weighing him down with her body, asking things of him she shouldn't want. It was their wedding night and he was making sure she'd never forget it. He was returning from a journey and grateful that she loved him. He was lying in the grass on Mount Ascup and bodily remembering what it was to touch Astrid. It was all the times they'd made love and all the times they would in the future rolled into that one desperate, reaching kiss.

Astrid was everything. Astrid was what he needed to protect. Astrid was _unequaled_.

The kiss went on, evolving and building a heat between them that needed to be quenched. Hiccup turned his body, his good leg folded beneath him, his hands bunching and lifting the linen of her bedclothes up and over her head. In that moment when that magic kiss was broken, he stared at her and knew she was a goddess incarnate. As if in a dream, his hand reached out and pulled the tie from her braid. He ran both his hands through her hair, the silken coolness of it sending a chill down his spine. Her searing hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head with care. Astrid's eyes fell to his chest and she pressed her palms into his skin, sliding upward with a pressure that made him bite his bottom lip with need. Hiccup wondered at the wonder on her face. She always looked at his body as though she'd never seen it before; as though it were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. When her eyes rose to his, he pulled her body flush against his and kissed her again as though their lives depended upon it.

Astrid ran her hands over every inch of skin she could come into contact with, slipping ever lower to the ties of his pants. Once she'd loosened the ties, she pushed his pants over his hips and reached around to squeeze his rear. He broke from her mouth with a gasp and traced kisses down her throat, the fingers of one hand in her hair again, the other stroking the slick heat between her thighs. A noise came from somewhere deep in Astrid's throat as his fingers barely entered her, teasing the sensitive area with gentle flicks.

With her hands on Hiccup's shoulders, Astrid straddled his hips, lowering herself onto the length of him with delicious slowness. They exhaled together, a collective sigh, and waited. There was a rightness when they were connected like this – a certain inseparability that no one could take from them. Hiccup's breaths were shaking, but so were Astrid's. Their eyes were steadfastly connected; Hiccup's hands rested on Astrid's hips. The first movement was deliberately slow and rapturous. Like taking a small sip of fine mead and rolling it around on the tongue, Hiccup wanted this precious moment to last; he wanted to savour it. He wanted to have this careful, unhurried lovemaking forever engrained in his mind. For the future, for forever.

Astrid kissed him, her tongue measured and languorous in his mouth, drawing his desire out, bending him to her will. As always, Hiccup couldn't help but give in to her. Astrid pushed him onto his back and rocked her hips with an insistent rhythm. A hand traveled up her back, her long tresses brushing his weathered skin. The other hand massaged the soft, giving flesh of her rear. Their pace quickened, erratic and uneven with need; his thrusts barely matching her frantic rocking. The imperfection of the rhythm only added to the rising tension – his breath coming in hushed grunts, hers in airy gasps. Hiccup closed his eyes and focused on the growing heat between their bodies, the mounting _drive_ to _finish_ this. Astrid cried out a sharp, pealing noise that sent Hiccup tumbling over the edge, his body jolting into hers with the physical reverberations of the climax.

Hiccup pushed himself upright, his arms vice-like around Astrid's body. Astrid buried her hands in Hiccup's sweat-damp hair and kissed his forehead while he pressed her into him as though he could encompass her with his own body and keep her safe. Hiccup leaned his face into the curve of her throat, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He didn't want to be two people again. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to think about anything but _Astrid_ and their life together; of their son and their home.

"I love you," Astrid whispered into the top of his head.

Hiccup tightened his arms around her, still willing her to be part of him for always. Her hands combed through his hair tenderly and he tilted his face up toward her. He had to tell her. He couldn't keep her in the dark, no matter how much he wanted to pretend this perfection was the reality. Berk was in danger. The whole Archipelago was in danger. Things would never be the same again.

"Astrid, I need to tell you—"

Astrid pressed a finger against his lips and shook her head mildly. She leaned down and kissed him delicately; his arms loosened around her unconsciously.

"Tell me tomorrow," she whispered, her lips barely brushing his when she spoke.

Hiccup buried his face in her neck again and breathed. "I love you, Astrid."

"I know."


	19. She was twenty-four and he was twenty-four.

               She was twenty-four and he was twenty-four. War was coming. It had been for months now, systematically and deliberately heading toward Berk. Every island in the archipelago had been hit; no tribe had been spared. Every time Hiccup and Toothless flew out to help, Astrid laid awake at night waiting. Waiting for his return. Waiting for news. Waiting for that one fateful day when waiting would no longer be an option for her. But now – now, war was coming to Berk.

                Tomorrow, everything would change. They had spent weeks making modifications to homes, to the Great Hall. Women and children were huddled in the Great Hall now, safely tucked away in the tunnels and caverns that Hiccup had been digging with Whispering Deaths. There were so many under Berk now that even if enemy forces managed to find their way into the tunnels, they’d be hard pressed to find their way out again.

                Hic was down there, safe with the other children. Astrid should be down there, too, but she wasn’t. She wouldn’t be for she was going to war as well. Hiccup didn’t like it. They’d argued for weeks, months even.

                “I don’t want you out there, Astrid,” he’d finally yelled at her. Hiccup had _yelled_ at her, arms flailing in emphasis. His face had been so haggard and it was breaking her heart.

                “You _need_ me out there.”

                “I need you with our son,” he’d said, his voice quieter, “I need you _safe_.”

                “What about what I need?”

                He’d rolled his eyes at her. “Not this again.”

                “I was a _shieldmaiden_ , Hiccup!” Astrid had growled.

                “And now you’re a wife! And a mother! You’re staying here,” he’d spat back, green eyes blazing, “You don’t get to fight me on this.”

                Shaking his head, he’d turned his back on her and that had been his first mistake because he hadn’t seen Astrid launch herself at him. If he had, he would have been able to duck out of the way with ease, but he hadn’t and so Hiccup had found himself uncomfortably pinned in a choke hold on the floor, Astrid’s knee digging into his spine.

                “Listen,” she’d hissed into his ear, as if he’d had a choice in the matter, “I’m going with you, Hiccup.”

                Hiccup jammed his hand into her locked grip and shrugged his shoulder, pushing her elbow up and over his head, effectively escaping the hold. Astrid hadn’t been finished with him though and she knocked out his bad leg, pinned his arms to his hips with her legs, and jammed her forearm into his throat. His eyes burned with silent indignation. It had been low, she knew it had been, but it had also been _necessary._ If he wouldn’t listen to her, then she’d _make_ him listen.

                “If we die,” she said, her voice high and clear, “We die _together_.”

                Hiccup had finally, _finally_ relaxed underneath of her and Astrid had pulled her arm from his throat and released his arms. Absently, he’d rubbed at his throat.

                “And Hic grows up alone?” he’d said, his voice soft and sad.

                Astrid released a small sigh. “If we lose, he might not grow up at all.”

                So, it had been decided that she was going into battle with him. That Hic would be safely kept with Gothi and the other women and children. That he would be heir if something happened to the Haddocks; that Gothi would name an interim chief, if necessary. Astrid was hoping that none of this would be necessary.

                Drago Bludvist had not died four years ago. He also had not given up his dream. He may have lost the bulk of his dragon army, but he had not lost his influence nor his allies. He came at the islands of the archipelago with a formidable army of men and dragons. Berk had been taking in refugees for months. Berk was the last stronghold. Berk was their last chance.

                Astrid hadn’t seen Hiccup since midday. He’d been holed up in the forge with Gobber making new weapons, a task that neither of them had done in years. Gobber had come into the Great Hall and dropped his heavy hand on Astrid’s shoulder. His big blue eyes locked on her sadly and he sighed.

                “You best go to him, lass.”

                The roads of Berk were silent, the ominous dread of war hung thick in the air. Astrid could smell the fires that hadn’t yet been started. She could taste blood on the air. Tomorrow was the judgement day, the day that Valhalla is in reach or isn’t. Tomorrow she might die. Tomorrow _Hiccup_ might die. Astrid’s stomach lurched at the thought. Her own death was nothing compared to losing Hiccup. She didn’t think she’d be able to go on if he died. She would, of course, for Hic but it would be complete truth to say that if Hiccup died, a fundamental piece of Astrid would die, too.

                Now more than ever, she needed to see him. She needed to touch him, hold him, _feel him_. She stood outside the window to the forge and felt a wave of nostalgia as she watched him working metal through the opening in the wall. Strong shoulders worked under his light, loose tunic. She remembered a time when his shoulders were smaller, but she’d been no less fascinated with watching them work. Long before she’d even known just how much Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third had meant to her, long before he’d stolen her heart.

He’d grown larger over the last few years, his muscles building a bulk that she would never have associated with Hiccup previously. When she saw that thick, muscular forearm in the orange glow of the forge, sweat glistening on his skin, she was reminded of who his father had been. Hiccup had always had the potential to be great. He _was_ great.    Astrid’s eyes lingered on his profile – strong jaw lined with reddish stubble, a prominent nose and a mop of unruly auburn hair. Gods, she loved him.

                He didn’t look up when she walked through the door. He was so intent on completing whatever detail it was that he was working on. Astrid wanted to reach out to him and remind him that he needed to sleep, that no matter what, the detail he was working on now probably wouldn’t matter in the morning. Weapons needed no adornment.

                “Hey,” she said quietly, her words lost in the roar of the forge.

                His shoulders jumped and she knew he’d heard her. Hiccup glanced over his shoulder, tired eyes glowing with the light of the still-burning forge.

                “Astrid,” he said softly, “What are you doing here?”

                Astrid gave him a barely-there grin. “What are _you_ doing here?”

                She moved toward him with deliberate steps, hips swinging and tiny smile on her lips. It could have been years ago; it could have been miles away. Hiccup’s eyes focused on her, but only for a distracted second. Then he snapped them back to his work.

                “I rebalanced this for you,” he said, turning around with her axe in hand.

                Astrid’s eyes widened in surprise. She reached out automatically, her hand closing around the handle of her axe, instantly shocked by how _right_ it felt in her palm.

                “I didn’t even know you’d taken it.”

                Hiccup shrugged. “You’ve been busy.”

                With a smirk on her lips, Astrid swung the axe experimentally, testing out the new weight of it. Hiccup watched her with a satisfied grin.

                “Your body’s changed since Hic was born. Your hips are wider, your centre of gravity has changed,” he explained.

                Astrid glanced at him and smiled. “Only you would think of this,” she sighed.

                His smile died. “I want you to be as protected as possible.”

                Astrid felt the threads of what could become a fight weaving between them. She could tell him off for not trusting her skills. Or, she could accept the thoughtful gift he’d given her. She could have fought with her axe as it had been, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as efficient as a well-balanced weapon in her hands. She looked at the axe – the blade polished and gleaming, the metal counterweight catching the light. It was a work of art. Her eyes found Hiccup’s.

                “Thank you,” she whispered.

                Hiccup’s smile was relieved. She hadn’t picked a fight on their last night together. Astrid found she was relieved, too. She didn’t want to fight with him. It was the absolute last thing she wanted. She set her axe down on Gobber’s workbench and closed the distance between her and Hiccup. Her eyes met his again and she grinned easily. Astrid’s hands skimmed the sides of his waist and reached around to untie his apron.

                “You’re done here, right?” she asked.

                Hiccup nodded, watching her.

                “Good.”

                They didn’t need to speak the words that they were both thinking. Tonight could be their last night together. Tonight could be all they had left.

                Hiccup’s eyes broke away from hers when he ducked out of the apron, Astrid tossing it behind her on the table.

                “I haven’t seen you in that in a while,” he said lightly, his fingers skimming the armoured leather strips of her skirt.

                Astrid huffed in amusement. “I haven’t needed to wear it,” she replied, her hands sliding up the front of his tunic, catching the loose ties in her fingers.

               They were silent while his hands moved up to her waist, a finger slipping under the hem of her shirt. Her hands explored his shoulders, his neck. He was so _real_ ; his skin slick with sweat, his hair damp. Astrid wanted to kiss him. Taste him. _Know_ him. Hiccup’s head dropped down as hers reached up, their breaths colliding, hot and moist against her skin. His lips hovered above hers and he closed his eyes with an exhale. When their lips touched, the contact was fleeting and precious, his fingers curving into her back and pulling her against his body. The heat was unbearably arousing and Astrid bit back a whimper. Their lips were barely touching when he spoke.

                “I don’t want to lose you,” he breathed against her lips.

                Astrid responded by crashing her lips into his, viciously and without remorse. She pressed her body into his, drank in his heat and the firmness of all those new muscles. Hiccup kissed her back with equal parts desperation and need, his arms curving around her possessively. Their kisses were hard and sloppy, as though something might swoop down at any moment and tear them from each other. With his hands on her hips, Hiccup spun them, lifting Astrid up onto his workbench. Her hands reached behind her, shoving at his tools while she wrapped her thighs around his hips, pressing her heat into his arousal. Groaning at the contact, Astrid reached up and fisted the hair at the back of his head, shoving him into her more tightly. Something metallic clattered to the floor, but the sound was lost in their recklessness.

                Hiccup reached down and tugged her left boot off and then her right. Astrid gripped the hem of his tunic and tore it upward, her lips slamming into the hot skin of his collarbone, her fingers gripping the sweat-drenched skin of his neck. Hiccup groaned and reached up her skirt ruthlessly, finding the top of her leggings and wrenching them from her body. His teeth caught her earlobe and pulled, hot lips closing around her skin, causing her fingernails to dig into his shoulders. A noise escaped her lips, urgent and salient, and his mouth was on hers again, his hand snaking up her inner thigh. Astrid’s hands struggled with the ties of his pants as Hiccups thumb, rough and unrefined, brushed against the sensitive bud between her legs. She bucked into his hand and shoved his pants down over his hips, gripping the length of him in her hand, pumping with brutish force. Hiccup arched into her, exhaling loudly and breaking their frantic kiss to bite his bottom lip.

                The look in his eye was warning and Astrid beamed unconsciously. It hadn’t been like this in a long, long time. They hadn’t been this savage with one another since before they were married, when things had hung in the balance, when there had been uncertainty and insecurity between them. His hands moved to the bottom of her shirt and she stretched her arms over her head in anticipation. When he pulled her shirt over her head, he stopped at her wrists and wound the fabric around them crudely, pushing her body back against the table by leaning into her. Astrid gasped when their skin touched and she laid back willingly, letting him wrap an arm around her hips and drag her to the edge of the table.

                There was a moment, a perfect pause when emerald crashed with cerulean and their own heavy breathing filled their ears, and then he leaned forward and kissed her, pressing his hips forward to meet hers. He rubbed and teased, on but not inside her, and she cried out in frustration. Hiccup laughed, lightly and truly, and the sound made Astrid want him even more. Because she loved him. Because that sound meant everything to her. Because it could be the last time she heard it.

                She struggled with her shirt, still wrapped around her outstretched hands, and flung it to the ground. As soon has her fingers were hers again, she gripped his shoulders and pulled her body even tighter to his. Hiccup looked at her, his pupils massive with desire, a ring of brazen green barely visible around them. Astrid didn’t have to say a word – he immediately stopped teasing her and adjusted to sink into her body.

                Only the initial entry was gentle and slow, every single movement that followed was hard, deliberate, and frantic. Her nails scratched down his back and she was sure she had splinters in the skin of her own back, but what did that matter when death was on the line? Weren’t these small prices to pay when the uncertainty of dawn loomed ahead of them?

                Astrid gripped the edge of the table in an attempt to feel the full extent of Hiccup’s thrusts, her hips responding with their own involuntary bucking. She was close, so close, and her eyes fell shut as she rode the waves of sheer euphoria. Her legs were locked around his hips and every movement brought the rapturous conclusion closer and closer. A final, fervent push into her brought the world crashing down until all she knew was Hiccup and his breathing and the _relief._

                Hiccup’s forehead rested on her shoulder and his breaths came in heavy pants against her sticky skin. Her knees shook when he pulled himself out of her and she suspected that his weren’t doing much better given the way he still leaned into her.

                Astrid wanted to tell him that everything would be alright. She combed her fingers through his hair, rubbed circles into his back, and stared at the wooden beams that ran across the ceiling of the smithy. She _couldn’t_ tell him that everything would be alright. She had no idea. No one could have any idea. This wasn’t a predictable war. This wasn’t a battle to be scoffed at, or to enter cockily. Death hung in the clouds; Valkyries circled Berk hungrily.

                Hiccup rose up on his elbows and regarded her with an impassive face.

                “We could die tomorrow,” he said. His voice didn’t shake with fear; there was no worry.

                Astrid nodded her head.

                Hiccup nodded and dropped his eyes, but only for a moment. They rose again. “At least if I die, I will have no regrets.”

                Astrid smiled, just slightly, ignoring the prickle of tears in the corners of her eyes.

                “No regrets,” she whispered.


	20. He was twenty-five and she was twenty-four. (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is Part 1 of a four part arc, so...DON'T FREAK OUT.

                He was twenty-five and she was twenty-four. The battlements on Berk had held fast through three months of constant assault. It was the kind of war that begged to be ended; that stubbornly continued despite heavy casualties on both sides. Hiccup couldn’t afford to stop the fight. There were too many people, too many _dragons_ that depended upon his insistent continuance. Drago had to be stopped.

                Somewhere in Drago’s ranks, there was a brilliant strategist. Somewhere there was a person who was anticipating all of Hiccup’s moves. The anticipation was spotty and it had been Astrid who’d suggested that perhaps there was a spy amongst them. She and Hiccup had argued over that, but eventually he’d conceded and they’d kept their plans to themselves until the last possible moment. That hadn’t stopped Drago’s ever-changing strategy.

                Hiccup was sure it wasn’t Drago himself. The man barely understood anything beyond brute force and rage. No, whoever it was had perfectly married the dragon forces with their human soldiers. They didn’t work _together_ , not like the forces in Berk, but they did work _harmoniously._ A wave of soldiers on one side of the island; an air assault over top of the village; men using dragons to hammer down the walls Hiccup had erected. Toothless couldn’t be everywhere at once and there were limitations to how he could exert his alpha abilities. He could stop one wave of dragons, but not all of them. Not with the coordination of the attacks. It was an exhausting, never ending battle. They were all being stretched to their limits, humans and dragons alike. Hiccup was tired of the constancy of the attacks; he was tired of war.

                The argument raged around the table. Gobber and Spitelout were arguing about who should go out and distract the dragons; Snotlout and Astrid were shouting at each other about combat tactics; Fishlegs, Eret, and Valka were having a quiet conversation, likely about dragon strategy. Hiccup sat at one end of the table and let his weary eyes trace through the Great Hall. The walls were burnt in places, charred wood replacing the portraits of past chiefs. The hole in the roof from the Nadder attack last week had only just been patched and there was still a wet spot on the ground where snow had accumulated.

                This wasn’t working. They had done well up until now, but how long could they hope to hold out? Hiccup knew they’d all hold out until they were dead – they’re Vikings, it’s an occupational hazard – but he didn’t want anyone else to die. They’d lost enough. Hiccup leaned his elbow on the table and ran his hand over his face. He felt her cool fingers against his wrist and opened his eyes to find Astrid looking back at him. This war wasn’t doing her any good, either. Two weeks ago, she’d told him about the baby. She couldn’t hide it, not with the way they all had to sleep now, curled up in the tunnels below Berk. There was no masking the sickness that came to her in the morning. They’d argued about that, too. He wanted her out of the fight even if her original argument still held. Hiccup tried to remember the last time he’d been able to hold his son while he was conscious. He was missing too much. This had to end.

                Hiccup let his hand fall away from his face and land heavily on the table. It was a quiet sound, but one they’d all become accustomed to hearing. Hiccup was not Stoick the Vast. He wouldn’t raise his voice and pound his fist for their attention. They’d learned to _listen_ for that soft _whump_ of leather against wood. Their conversations dwindled to silence; Hiccup never took his eyes away from Astrid’s when he spoke.

                “I’m going after him.”

                Astrid’s brow came down in an expression that he was used to seeing by now. She was exasperated with him. “Hiccup,” she said, her voice holding a familiar note of frustration.

                “It’s the only way.”

                Astrid’s eyes studied his face, her frown growing. Everyone in the room waited for the explosion. This was not a new suggestion. This was not a new argument. No one said it, but everyone knew it – if Hiccup went after Drago, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be coming back. Astrid would never allow it.

                “There has to be another way.” A whispered counterargument slipped from her lips.

It was weak and old and they both knew it. There was no other way. Drago had to be stopped. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He had to be killed. And this time, Hiccup had to be sure he was dead.

Hiccup smiled at Astrid – a small, grasping grin – as he reached out and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. There was no one else in the room in that moment. Everyone had fallen away from either of their minds. Tears welled in her eyes and Hiccup’s smile faltered.

“It has to be done,” he whispered.

“Why does it have to be you?”

Hiccup drew in a deep breath and released a wordless sigh. “A chief protects his own.”

A single tear brimmed over and slid down her cheek – crystal against rose and alabaster. Gods, she was beautiful, even now. Her brows came together and he could see her forming her argument, ready to come up with another plan that just put countless more of his people at risk. He pressed two fingers against her lips and her eyes locked on his.

“It has to be done,” he repeated.

Beneath his fingers, he could feel her lips trembling. More tears escaped her eyes as her face crumbled with the stark realization that he was right. That they’d given it their best shot. That it _had_ to be done. Her nod was a tiny, jerky motion before she whipped her head away from him, shoved back her chair from the table and briskly walked out the front door. Hiccup stared at the heavy door of the Great Hall, swinging in the frigid wind of late winter. She’d come back in clear-headed and calm, and no one would ever mention that they’d seen Astrid Haddock crying.

The room buzzed with conversation again and Hiccup found himself nodding to suggestions with grim determination. He’d never been afraid of death. He’d known it would come for him eventually. He hoped it wasn’t tonight.

But if it was going to happen, it would be tonight.

Nighttime warfare had been an early strategy in this war, but Drago’s forces soon learned that nighttime attacks against an army with a Night Fury wasn’t exactly wise. Nighttime was _usually_ unspoken peacetime. But Hiccup wasn’t playing at keeping his people safe for one more night anymore. Hiccup was planning to end the war.

He had one chance and one chance alone. Drago was _always_ on the ship to which he’d chained his Bewilderbeast. Always. Hiccup was sure this was a fact that drove his strategist mad, which was why there was _always_ a swarm of armoured dragons around the ship. This attack was going to take everything that Berk had. Every able-bodied warrior; every dragon that could fly. It would have to be fast and distracting and Hiccup would have to stay out of it until he could see Drago on deck. He’d have one chance and he’d have to trust his friends to watch his back.

Hiccup was adjusting Toothless’ saddle when she found him.

“You’re coming back, right?”

Hiccup forced a smile and turned to face her. “My personal plan does include returning.”

Astrid didn’t smile and Hiccup let his false grin fall away.

“I have to try, As.”

“I know,” she spat. Her anger faded as quickly as it had come on and she gave him a desperate, pleading glance, “Just promise me it won’t go wrong.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to speak just as Gobber touched down heavily on Grump.

“We’re ready, Hiccup.”

Hiccup nodded and glanced back at Astrid before climbing onto Toothless. She rushed him and yanked him down by the front of his flight suit into a vicious kiss, lips mashed together and teeth clattering.

“Come back to me,” she whispered.

Hiccup watched her force her helmet on her head and take a running jump onto Stormfly’s back. She was in her flight suit, too. She was his absolute backup and he wasn’t happy about it. But like they all kept saying, there weren’t any other options.

His role was simple. Get up high enough that he wouldn’t be spotted, hover over Drago’s ship, wait for all Hel to break loose, and attack as soon as he had an opening. It was practically a suicide mission for everyone involved. They hadn’t used this sort of desperate, kamikaze technique before. Hiccup hadn’t allowed it. The truth was, Hiccup thought as Toothless pushed off the ground and they rose higher and higher in the blackened sky, that they didn’t even know if this would work. Without Drago, would the war stop? Without Drago, would his forces back off? Hiccup worried about the strategist amongst their ranks. Was he a madman, too? Would he continue the assault on Berk? Hiccup had to believe that it would stop. Everything about this war stank of personal vendetta. It had always been personal for Drago – a personal mastery over dragons and men; a rancorous campaign against Hiccup for daring to fight back. Hiccup knew he had to be the one to end this.

As Hiccup and Toothless soared soundlessly toward Drago’s ship, Hiccup closed his eyes and drew in a long, soothing breath. He might die tonight. So many of his friends might die tonight. He only hoped it would be worth it. If he could stop Drago, if he could protect Berk, it would be worth it. Somewhere far below, Hiccup heard the sound of dragon fire on wood, of men and women shouting. His eyes snapped open. It had begun.

“Come on, bud,” Hiccup whispered to Toothless, “We just need to do this one thing. We have to get it right.”

They dropped through the clouds and hovered. Hiccup watched the spiralling cyclone of armoured dragons rising from the ship and forming a barrier from outside attacks. There was weak protection from overhead attacks, but Hiccup and the others had learned the hard way about how quickly that space could be filled. They’d lost Fatface Olhouser and his Gronckle, Bonecruncher, the night Hiccup had been overconfident about the gap. He had one chance.

He watched as a blue Nadder shot out of the clouds at breakneck speed, its rider nearly undetectable in her flight suit. Hiccup bit his lip and tried to watch her as she wove through the dragons cluttering the sky. They were fast, Drago’s dragons, but they were hindered by their armour. They were no match for Astrid on Stormfly. No one was save Hiccup on Toothless. He glanced down at the ship below and spotted his target. Hiccup couldn’t waste any more time on Drago. He needed to take him out quickly and unexpectedly and if he wanted to do that effectively, Toothless could not use his full speed. The enemy could _not_ hear them coming.

“Okay, bud. This is it. We need to go down fast, but not too fast. Like we practiced. As soon as you have a clear shot, we take it,” Hiccup whispered, leaning his body into his dragon.

“Go,” he breathed.

They fell and Hiccup was overtaken by the momentary thrill of the dive, as he always was, but his stomach turned knowing that this could all go so very wrong. They needed to be right. They needed to hit Drago. As they drew closer and closer, Hiccup knew he should give Toothless the order to shoot Drago, but he wasn’t satisfied with the proverbial knife in the back. His blood burned for Drago to see him and to _know_ that it was Hiccup who stopped him. For his father. For his tribe. For all the lives lost.

“Faster,” he hissed at Toothless.

Toothless tilted his head in question, but picked up speed. The sound of an approaching Night Fury filled the air and the armoured dragons shifted their focus. But Hiccup didn’t care about the dragons, not when Drago’s startled face turned up, not when his eyes locked on Hiccup’s. The older man smirked and held his good arm open in a welcoming motion. Hiccup scowled.

“Now, Toothless.”

He could feel the strength of the plasma burst building in Toothless’ throat, the scalding heat through his scales, and the inevitable release. Hiccup watched the blast hit Drago in the chest, watched his body fall to the deck of the ship, and waited for the relief to set in. It didn’t. Hiccup still felt the pain of all the losses that Berk had suffered. He still felt the emptiness of the absence of his father. When he looked at the lifeless body of his foe, he felt only pity for a man who’d given in to hate.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hiccup said to Toothless.

But they’d waited too long and Hiccup had counted on some catastrophic enemy response to follow Drago’s death. He’d been counting on confusion in their ranks. He’d been counting on a retreat or a surrender. Instead, they were surrounded by armoured dragons and human warriors. He and Toothless were dodging arrows, bolas, and charging dragons. Hiccup urged Toothless upward, looking back over his shoulder and finding him finally – the strategist.

He was a tall man, thin like Hiccup, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. It was clear to Hiccup that he’d anticipated this type of attack at some point. He’d known that Hiccup would come for Drago. Even from this distance, Hiccup could see the man’s face, his eyes watching Hiccup with interest. Drago had been nothing, Hiccup realized. Drago had been a figurehead, a large, hulking reason to go to war.

“We have to take him out,” he mumbled to himself, “Toothless, we have to go back!”

Toothless warbled incredulously, leaning into the turn Hiccup was forcing him into.

“It’s _him_. He’s the one we need to,” Hiccup paused and thought about what Astrid would say, “ _eliminate_.”

They dove again, this time dodging projectiles and dragons, swerving with single-minded drive toward the man who stood calmly on the deck, never sparing a glance toward his dead comrade. Hiccup realized too late that the man had anticipated this, too.

“Oh no.”

It was all he’d managed before the armoured Thunderdrum that appeared on his left had released its concussive blast. Hiccup recognized the weightlessness of falling without the protection of Toothless. His head ached from the Thunderdrum’s blast and he couldn’t move his hands quick enough to open his flight suit. Something sharp hit his face as he fell, narrowly missing his right eye as he pulled his face out of the way. An arrow, maybe? He could hear Toothless’ panicked roar somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t see him for the blood streaming down his face. When he looked down at the ice-dotted sea below that he was approaching at undoubtedly lethal velocity, he could only think of one thing. He squeezed his eyes shut before impact: _I’m sorry, As_.


	21. She was twenty-four. (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Part 2 of 4  
> Warning for blood and violence.

She was twenty-four. There was blood on her face; the cloying, metallic, familiar scent of it turned her stomach with each inhale. It wasn’t her blood. Astrid wondered if there was some part of her – some savage part – that had been released in the battle that night. She wasn’t Astrid Haddock of Berk anymore. She was some wild creature that cared only for her own survival and the survival of her unborn child. They’d been wrong to underestimate her. They’d been wrong to think her nothing more than a woman. They’d been wrong to think they had a right to her. No man had any rights over her.

Somewhere, deep in her civilized brain, the part of her mind that had been temporarily forgotten, a voice reminded her that there _was_ one man. _Hiccup_. But he wasn’t there. Astrid was alone here. She’d been alone when she was taken. _Stormfly_ , that voice screamed in her mind – but she couldn’t think about that right now. Stormfly wasn’t here either.

She’d been alone when the guards had come for her earlier, alone in a cell of damp stone that did nothing to ease the chill of winter in the archipelago. It had been Astrid against two hulking soldiers. She’d been perceived as easy prey, but it was they who were the easy prey. Taking the dirk from the first guard had been simple. All it had taken was a sharp jab to his manhood and quick fingers on his belt. Doubled over and cursing, the pulse point at his throat had been exposed. As the blade split his flesh, Astrid had a fleeting glimpse in her mind’s eye – cutting into a plum on a warm summer’s eve, juice spilling from the fruit. Blood spurted from the wound when she pulled the blade out, the handle slick in her fingers. It took no effort at all for her to turn and let the dagger fly at the other, startled guard. Astrid had always been the best and when the man sunk to the ground with the bloodied handle protruding from his eye, she felt a rush of pride. She was _still_ the best.

But of course they hadn’t come alone and in the end, brawling and fighting as she had, it took eight men to hold her down. She’d only subdued when one of them managed to land a kick in her midsection. Astrid had curled in around herself protectively, tucking her knees and elbows in, ready to weather more violence while protecting that precious, precious life within. Surprisingly, the men had no appetite for further violence. Or perhaps their orders had been only to bind her and nothing more. Perhaps they’d already overstepped their orders, Astrid had mused as they exchanged heavy glances amongst each other.

Astrid was in irons. Her feet and wrists were shackled, the cold iron heavy against her skin. It was one of the only times that she’d cursed the peacetime they’d enjoyed on Berk. Her skin was soft now, unused to violence and hardship. The delicate skin of her wrists chafed in the manacles, rubbed raw in some places, she surmised from the slow trickle of blood she could feel on her skin. Once she was bound, Astrid saw no sense in fighting any further. Instead she sought to memorize the hallways she was being taken through. The air in the cell had been damp and chill and through the closed window, she could hear the rush of the sea; the hallways, though still stone, were warmer and lit with the orange glow of several burning torches. This was not a Viking longhouse. These men were not Vikings.

Drago’s men.

Drago was dead. Of that, Astrid was certain. His death hadn’t been without its costs and Berk had paid dearly that night. Astrid wished that she knew with certainty _how_ dearly. _Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup_. The last thing she saw that night had been Hiccup and Toothless separated, both plummeting toward the sea with little chance of recovering. She closed her eyes and willed the image away. _He’s alive_ , she promised herself. It was one of the only things that kept her going. That and Hic’s green eyes and wide smile. That and the tentative movement she could feel in her womb at times.

For now, she had to be _here_.

And here was a warm, pleasantly furnished room lined with bookshelves and plush furs. Two guards had dragged her into the room and dropped her into an unyielding wood chair, each resting a weighty hand on her shoulders to keep her seated. Across from the chair was a broad writing desk and seated in a chair that had all the appearances of being considerably more comfortable than hers was a tall, thin man. His head was bent and he was writing with quiet efficiency. Astrid narrowed her eyes as she watched him – oiled black hair, a pencil thin moustache, a gaunt face with cheekbones protruding. He was older than her, considerably so. Maybe the age of her parents if they’d lived. He hadn’t looked up, this thin man, not when the guards had entered the room with her, not when they’d forced her into the chair, chains rattling, and certainly not now.

Her breaths grew louder as she watched him, eyes narrowed. She wanted to scream at him, to shake her chains, to lunge toward his face. He was one of Drago’s lieutenants. Astrid’s eyes dropped to the desk, searching for something, _anything_ that she could use as a weapon. The dirks on the belts of the guards would be difficult to get her hands on now, especially considering the wary glances they kept giving her. Her eyes fixed on the pencil in the man’s hand and she envisioned herself climbing over the desk and jamming it into his eye or his throat. It would be a stupid plan with four guards in the room and four more outside the door. She’d be dead before she even had a chance to enjoy her victory.

The man’s gaze flicked up to her for a mere second and then dropped back down to his page, on which he was still writing. His lack of regard fueled the fire burning in her belly.

“Oh, _do_ take your time. I haven’t got anywhere to be,” she spat derisively.

The man’s expression and actions didn’t change – he continued writing, but his lip twitched in the tiniest of motions. The beginnings of a smile, Astrid might have said, if this man were a smiling man. She imagined he didn’t get much practice at that particular expression.

The guards shuffled nervously beside her. It was the first indication Astrid had that perhaps this wasn’t a man to be trifled with, which was the first indication that she would seek out a reaction from him.

“What’s it like to have your master dead?” she said, her voice low and deadly.

Without looking up and despite the discord her words had stirred in the guards, the man replied: “I wouldn’t know. Perhaps you can tell me.”

“What in Hel is that supposed to mean?” Astrid spat, struggling against the guards’ hands.

Here the man smiled and set down his pencil, folding his hands over the parchment in front of him. His eyes were black as pitch and his smile was thin and cutting. He didn’t answer Astrid and she felt two emotions rising up in her chest. The first was an overbearing rage – she longed to tear out his throat with her teeth – and the second was the dull ache of despair. _Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup_.

“Rumour in the archipelago is that the great Dragon Master is dead.”

“Rumour mongers are whores and liars.”

The man laughed, a fleeting, wheezing sound. “Right you are, my dearest.”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Not yet,” he agreed.

He stood and Astrid tilted her chin defiantly, refusing to lower her eyes from his. He walked around his desk and Astrid sized him up. He was thinner than Hiccup, if that was even possible. If she could get him alone, she could easily overcome him. Or perhaps not – she wouldn’t be caught making the same mistakes the guards had made with her. She’d bide her time until the right moment. The man stood with his back to her and looked out the window. Astrid wondered if they were done here, if perhaps she should incite some response from him again.

His voice cut across the mostly silent room, weaving through the crackling of firewood in the hearth.

“Have you ever tasted Deadly Nadder meat?”

Astrid snarled, forcing her body off the chair with all the strength she had. The guards had the considerable advantage of overhead force and she only managed to rise mere inches from the seat before thick fingers tightened around her shoulders with bruising strength.

“I’ll slit your throat,” she growled.

Another wheezing huff of amusement. “I’m sure you will, dearest.”

“Stop _calling_ me that.”

He turned slowly. “You don’t like it?”

The man rolled his neck and took slow, even steps toward her. He ran his fingers lightly over her hands and Astrid curled them into fists, flinching away from his touch. Squatting before her, he looked up into her face, head tilted and eyes studying.

“I can see what he saw in you.”

 _Sees_ , Astrid corrected. Hiccup was _not_ dead _._

“Ah,” he continued, a snake-like grin slipping onto his face, “I see you still have hope. It is a rare few who survive a fall from that height. Even rarer those who survive waters that frigid. Your Hiccup was a rare man.”

“ _Is_ ,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“You may not want to admit it, Astrid,” he said at length, “But your husband is gone. And I’m afraid, for better or worse, you’re _mine_.”

Though her mouth was dry, Astrid managed to gather enough saliva to spit directly in his eye. She’d hoped that he’d hit her. She wanted the violence. Anything was better than talking about Hiccup with this _animal_.

He did not hit her. He merely used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe his face and stood up, still standing before her. He turned his attention to the guard on her right.

“See that our charming guest has suitable accommodations.”

Astrid could only imagine what those accommodations would be – a dungeon even more rank than the one she’d been taken from.

“She’s special,” he said, smiling at her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, cold, black holes into an even colder soul.

“Where are my clothes?” Astrid demanded.

She’d been knocked unconscious when they’d taken her and she’d been in her flight suit. Now she had little more than a blood-stained shift.

“That _leather_ contraption? I’m afraid it’s been confiscated, dearest Astrid.”

“Call me that one more time and I will slit you from nose to navel and dance in your entrails, you munge-eating—“

“That’s quite enough, Mistress Haddock.” His eyes were appraising her with a new level of scrutiny. “You are a challenge and I do love a good challenge.”

Astrid snorted. “Take me out of these irons, give me an axe and we’ll see how much you love the challenge.”

The smile that spread across his face was as slippery as a Bloodbane eel. He took a small step toward Astrid and yanked her upright by the chain that connected the manacles on her wrists. Twisting the chain, he pulled her flush to his body so that she was forced to stare at the base of his throat as he spoke. His free hand pressed solidly against the swell of her abdomen.

“You are alive on my mercy, Astrid. You and the child. Test me and one of you will die. I assure you that it will not be _you_.”

With that he loosened his grip on the chain and shoved her backward into the chair, stalking out of the room before she had a chance to react. Her heart pounded like a caged bird in her chest, fluttering and panicking. All the boldness in her melted at the threat on her child’s life. This was Hiccup’s baby and it could be all she had left of him. She curled her hands into her belly as though that could protect the baby.

Astrid didn’t resist when the guards lifted her from the chair and marched her back through the halls. She didn’t keep track of the turns and bends; she didn’t make note of landmarks. She was no closer to knowing where she was or why she was here. Her captor knew who she was, so perhaps she was being held for ransom. Or perhaps… No, she couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ \-- think about that.

The room the guards brought her to was not a cold cell after all. It was a small room with a tiny window covered in snow. A fire burned in a small hearth and clean clothing was neatly piled on a stool by a bed furnished with furs. Astrid frowned.

“What is this?”

“Your room,” one of the guards said brusquely.

Quickly, the guards removed her shackles and rushed from the room, locking the door rapidly behind them. Astrid had been too baffled and too worn to fight them anyway. She rubbed at her raw, stinging wrists as she stumbled toward the bed. There was a wash basin by the bed and though she knew she should clean herself; though she knew the shift she was wearing was drenched in blood, she made no move to do so. She sat on the bed, her fingers sinking into soft, yielding furs, and allowed the feeling that she’d been holding at bay since the start of her captivity to grip her heart.

 _Hiccup_. Her heart screamed for him. _Hic_. What if she never held him again? _Stormfly._ Had they taken her sweet dragon, too? Was she safe? _Berk_. Her home – craggy cliffs and damp, unforgiving terrain. Was she going to see it again? Despair would destroy her if she let it. She tucked her feet up onto the bed and laid her head down. It was warmer and softer and more _comforting_ than she wanted it to be. Her tears were free-flowing and silent.

A Viking never cried. A Viking never despaired. A Viking accepted fate, accepted passage to Valhalla when the time came. A Viking went out fighting. Astrid pressed her palms against the swell of her belly and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hiccup,” she whispered, “ _Please_.”

The truth was Astrid wasn’t even sure if she was a Viking anymore.


	22. He was twenty-five. (Part III)

He was twenty-five. The setting sun left the cliffs of Berk bathed in a blood red glow, the salmon-tinged horizon far more peaceful than Hiccup felt it had any right to be. The village below was winding down – the constant tapping of hammers was dissipating; the dull cacophony of voices dwindled. Berk was rebuilding, which was what Berk always did in times of strife. When dragons had come, they had rebuilt. For years they had rebuilt. When war came, they rebuilt. For weeks now, they had rebuilt.

Weeks that Hiccup had no recollection of ever happening. Weeks he’d spent laid up in bed, fighting off fever. There were pieces that he could remember. A fire in the hearth, darkness in the room, a blonde braid. He’d called for Astrid then. He remembered that. Her name on his lips, a hoarse whisper before fading into oblivious darkness again.

He remembered the scent of the herbal broth that they woke him to drink – it was pungent, medicinal, and bitterly familiar.

“Oh no, did I lose the other one?” he remembered mumbling.

He also remembered wiggling his toes and sighing in relief, and the hearty female laughter. _Not_ Astrid’s laughter.

“You still have all your pieces this time, Haddock.”

Camicazi’s laughter. Camicazi’s blonde braid. Although it hadn’t been braided then. It had been wild and loose and so typically _Bog_.

“Astrid,” Hiccup had croaked, his throat.

Camicazi’s features had darkened then, her broad grin falling into a line of tight concern, fine brows pinched.

“The healer didn’t say there was anything wrong with your eyes.”

Even though exhaustion and pain played heavily on his body, Hiccup had managed an eye roll. “I can see fine, Camicazi. Where’s Astrid? Why are you here? Where’s—“

“Shh, Hiccup. Shh.”

Her hand was smoothing his hair soothingly, an unfamiliar feeling. It was wrong, too. In all the years he’d known her, Camicazi had never been _comforting_. She’d forced more broth down his throat, despite his weak protestations, and he’d fallen into another hazy, drugged sleep.

There were other memories, too, but none so poignant. None that replayed over and over. The comfort he’d drawn from seeing a blonde braid throughout his illness had been taken from him then. His fever dreams had been darker and stranger after that conversation. All he’d wanted was Astrid and she was nowhere to be found and he didn’t even know why.

He knew why now. She’d been taken. Astrid had been taken by _that man_ and Hiccup had never felt more helpless. It didn’t matter when Valka insisted that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He could have _killed_ him as he had Drago. He could have _tried_ harder when he fell from Toothless. He could have saved himself the fall. And the broken ribs and the bruising that was still purple and green and yellow all down his side. He could have saved his prosthetic. He could have saved time. He could have saved his wife.

When he woke – finally woke with a clear mind – Hiccup had been overtaken by a tremendous sense of déjà vu. He was alone in the great room of his house, Toothless perched at the end of the bed, staring expectantly and then leaping onto the bed in his excitement. The dragon was careful, though, knowing the extent of Hiccup’s injuries. Knowing how close to death he’d been. And despite the frantic licks from his best friend, Hiccup felt the emptiness of the house acutely. Astrid wasn’t there to greet him and his foggy memories gave him a sense of ill-ease. Hic’s joyful laughter wasn’t filling the room and Hiccup wondered what had become of his son. And what of Valka? What of his friends? What of Berk?

Getting out of bed had been an ordeal. Every muscle in his body screamed; every bone blared in agony. His right side was a study in purples – lavender and puce and byzantium; his right shoulder was bound and the joint ached with any movement. There was a tightness to the right side of his face and Hiccup had raised shaking fingers to his cheek, finding the stitches in his tender skin. He remembered the arrow – a few more inches and he would have had a perfect face – in Valhalla.

His breath had come easily and Hiccup knew that it could have been worse. It could still be worse. _Astrid_.

“Okay, bud. Let’s do this.”

With his left hand on Toothless’ head, the déjà vu intensified. So similar, but so different. They made their way toward the door carefully, but Hiccup didn’t have a chance to open it. The door swung open and Hiccup found himself staring into his mother’s wide, pale eyes.

“Hiccup?” she gasped.

Hic ran past her legs and barrelled into Hiccup’s good leg. “Daddy!”

Valka had quickly ushered him back to the bed. “You shouldn’t be up yet. We should get the healers in and—“

“I can’t lay here any longer.”

Valka turned shrewd eyes on him. “Yes you can. And you will.”

“With all due respect, Mom, I’m the chief,” he said with a small grin.

It disarmed her a little too well, tears welling in her eyes and her cool hands on his face. Hic had crawled into his lap, his small body nestled painfully against Hiccup’s bruised side. Hiccup didn’t mind the pain. It meant he was alive to feel it; alive to hold his son. Hic babbled incessantly about everything that had happened while Hiccup had been asleep. He was the first to bring up Astrid’s absence to Hiccup.

“And Mommy’s gone. Where’s Mommy, Daddy?”

Hiccup looked down into his sons wide eyes – green like his, but with the shape of Astrid’s. Hic’s face was hopeful and pure, the picture of childhood innocence. Slowly, Hiccup raised his eyes to Valka’s. She gave him the tiniest shake of her head, her expression grim. Hiccup’s heart collapsed, falling somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he suddenly felt very tired. Overwhelmed. Holding Hic to him, still not answering his question, Hiccup pulled his legs back up on the bed and tugged the blankets over both of them, not letting Hic see the tears in his eyes. He kissed Hic’s forehead and snuggled close.

“Daddy’s very tired, Hic. Will you nap with Daddy?”

“But I’m not tired.”

“Then stay here until Daddy falls asleep.”

Hiccup felt Hic’s small hand patting his head as he closed his eyes. “Okay, Daddy. Go to sleep. Hic’s here

The repeated assurance – a mimic of something Astrid had so often said to Hic – made Hiccup smile. Even if she wasn’t here now, she was here in Hic.

It was Fishlegs who finally filled him in on all that had happened. After Hiccup had killed Drago and circled back to take out the strategist – _that man -_ he’d been knocked off Toothless by the concussive blast of a Thunderdrum. Everyone had seen him fall, though in the darkness, no one really knew what had happened. It had been Snotlout who had pulled him from the water and flown him back to Berk. Frigid and so completely still, Snotlout had been sure he was dead. Astrid and Stormfly had pulled Toothless to safety on the ice and the dragon had taken off toward Berk using ice and ships as springboards to the land, dodging arrows and dragon blasts as he went. The battle had raged a while longer and probably would have continued if it weren’t for Toothless exercising his Alpha abilities and turning Drago’s dragons on their own fleets. The ships had retreated and Berk had, once again, inherited quite a few dragons. Including the Bewilderbeast. This was where Hiccup had interrupted Fishlegs’ explanation.

                “The Bewilderbeast is _here_?”

                Fishlegs nodded and Toothless burrowed his head under Hiccup’s hand. They sat by the fire, Hiccup’s arm finally freed from its bindings – dislocated, he’d been told.

                “How are we keeping it?” Hiccup asked, absently rolling his right shoulder in an attempt to dispel the stiffness in it.

                “We aren’t. It stayed.”

                Hiccup glanced at Toothless and frowned. “Are you keeping him, bud?”

                The dragon gave a dismissive snort and shook his head, indicating with a roll of his brilliant emerald eyes that he’d prefer it if the Bewilderbeast left. Hiccup had narrowed his eyes in thought. The Bewilderbeast was a formidable creature and he wondered how affected it had been by its former master. Would it turn on Berk? Would it try to take the Alpha status from Toothless? He’d have to see the dragon to know.

                As though reading Hiccup’s mind, Fishlegs spoke.

                “It doesn’t want to hurt us. It just keeps circling Berk. It almost seems… _lost_.”

                Hiccup frowned. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think having a Bewilderbeast as an ally would be advantageous. He also didn’t want to keep it here if it wanted to leave. Hiccup was relieved to know that it wasn’t being tethered in any way.

                “Has anyone gotten close to it?”

                “I made contact. Once.”

                “And?”

                Fishlegs shrugged and grinned. “I’m not you, Hiccup, but he hasn’t left.”

                Hiccup leaned back in his chair and set down his cup of tea beside him. “Tell me about Astrid.”

oOoOoOo

                Recovery had been slower than Hiccup had wanted, but every day he persisted. Berk had an ally on the inside of Drago’s dwindling troops. Eret son of Eret had infiltrated the ranks of Drago’s army in a rather ill-advised rescue mission. He’d been gone since the day after the battle, once they’d realized that Astrid had been taken. The key of this mission was information and if at all possible, the retrieval of Astrid. It had been six weeks and though Eret’s notes arrived with regularity via Terror air mail, he had not succeeded in locating Astrid. Through his notes, Eret had implied that he had very good reason to believe that Astrid was alive and, in all probability, well. He had not, however, managed to locate her within the barracks. He had not seen her with his own eyes.

Hiccup hated how helpless it made him feel, that he was here, barely functioning, and she was _there_. That _Eret_ was there in his stead. That _weeks_ had passed and _nothing_ had come of Eret’s infiltration. Nothing but the vague assurance that Astrid was there, somewhere. Hiccup took little comfort in the fact that she was alive. There were worse things than death and _that man_ was capable of all of them.

So, as the sun set each day, Hiccup stole away to this tree, on _this_ cliff. _Astrid’s_ tree. It was nicked and damaged from years and years of axe throwing to clear her mind. It wasn’t the same as her fits of rage, where she’d stomp off into the forest and annihilate some poor, defenseless pine. It wasn’t like the trees she’d massacred in her never ending pursuit of being the _best_. This was different. She called it her ‘thinking tree’. The sight of its battle scars at Astrid’s hand served to ground Hiccup, to keep him focused on what was coming. Because it _was_ coming. He _would_ go to her.

In the meantime, he made scars of his own in Astrid’s tree. His own thought-attacks were carried out, not with an axe but with heavy sword after heavy sword. His muscles had weakened from his bed rest and if Hiccup expected to be successful in liberating Astrid, he would need to have a defence other than Toothless. He would need to be able to defend himself. And he would not be satisfied until his arm was strong enough to throw a blade with authority again. With accuracy. With precision. _That man_ would be precise, accurate and deadly. Hiccup had to be even more so.

There was comfort in the heavy thunk of metal against wood as the sun fell away to darkness. Fishlegs was expecting a note from Eret tonight and the Terror usually arrived not long after dusk. The enemy camp wasn’t far – a few hours flight – and Hiccup had every intention of setting out on that flight as soon as the opportune moment arose. He had every intention of finding Astrid and bringing her home. He had every intention of _finishing this_.

But for now, he had to wait. He had to bide his time.

The moon was high and he had cycled through his collection of blades six times by the time Fishlegs and Meatlug touched down on the cliff. Hiccup didn’t turn as Fishlegs made his way to him – he narrowed his eyes in the darkness and threw a blade with a weary arm. The tip stuck in the trunk of the tree, but it wasn’t deep enough. The blade clattered noisily to the ground.

“What does it say?” Hiccup asked his friend, another blade in hand.

“It—You should maybe _see_ this,” Fishlegs replied, his voice quiet and wavering.

Behind him, Hiccup heard the sounds of other dragons touching down and knew that a Nightmare and Zippleback had joined them on the cliff. Hiccup swallowed heavily but did not turn.

“What does it say?” he repeated.

Fishlegs drew in a shaking breath. “It doesn’t _say_ anything.”

Hiccup finally turned to look at Fishlegs, his expression as thunderous as that of Thor. He held out his hand for the folded piece of paper that Fishlegs clutched in his hand.

“Hiccup,” he started.

Hiccup shook his head and Fishlegs sighed as he handed over the paper. Hiccup unfolded the paper and stared, his brain barely registering what he held in his hand. Two locks of hair: one black and tacky with drying blood; the other blonde, silvery in the moonlight, and tied neatly in pale blue ribbon. Hiccup crushed the paper in his fist, his right hand drawing and igniting Inferno and rapidly sending the flaming blade into the trunk of the tree, the flames licking at the bark.

“Ready the dragons,” Hiccup said, his voice low and deadly, “we fly at dawn.”


	23. She was twenty-four and he was twenty-five (Part IV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of 4. Trigger warning: blood, violence, abuse, mild gore.

She was twenty-four and he was twenty-five. Her sleep had been plagued with blood and violence, realities that were not altogether unfamiliar to Astrid. But it was different when she wasn't inflicting; it was different when she wasn't _receiving_. It was different when she'd been forced to stand idly by and _watch._ She'd been weaving since dawn, a mindless, repetitive set of motions. Over and under, over and under, again and again and again. Reliving last night in her mind was her latest form of torture.

It was her fault. It was _Astrid's_ fault. She hadn't acted quickly enough. She hadn't trusted her own eyes. Because it had been almost two _months_ of this. Two months alone here. Two months of fists and kicks; two months of threats; two months of teetering the edge of _his_ patience. The last time he'd hit her, Astrid had seen stars and the look that had crossed his face had been inhuman. A feral rage that pushed at the edges of what little humanity he had. If it was just her, she'd push him over the edge.

There was movement in her womb, a sharp kick to her bladder to remind her that she _wasn't_ alone. Dying _wasn't_ an option. That last time she'd pushed him, he'd taken up his sword, his free hand buried in her hair, and wrenched her to her feet, her head still swimming. The flat of the blade had struck her lower back with enough force to bring tears to her eyes, the instance of stinging morphing into a deeper, lasting pain. He'd breathed heavy, snarling breaths against her ear, his sour gasps turning her already queasy stomach.

"You do enjoy testing me, my dear. Remember that the child means _nothing_ to me. Less than nothing."

Astrid hadn't been able to see him then, but she knew it was a lie. It was she who was less than nothing. He wanted the child. She didn't know why, or even how she knew, but she knew. As always, she pushed the words out.

"I'm not your _anything_."

The guards had taken her back to her chambers then and she'd tried, once again, to think of a way out of here. But, it had been _months_ and Hiccup was dead. Berk was miles upon miles away. She was in no fit state to sail and she had no dragon. Maybe when the child was born, maybe then… There was a part of her that knew that her life was tethered to the child's and the more she drove _that man_ to the edge, the more likely she was to overstay her welcome in the fort. He suffered her disobedience with an iron fist, except more often than not, he was tolerant of her. More often than not, she acquiesced to his word. He hadn't tried to bed her and hadn't allowed anyone else to either. Some small part of her was _grateful_ for that kindness. Somewhere in her heart, the shield maiden swore and seethed that she should be _grateful_ for _common decency_. Still, Astrid _was_ grateful.

She hadn't expected to see him again, not that night. His tolerance had limits and she'd pushed him to those limits – generally that meant he'd leave her for the night. He'd try again in the morning, probably bearing some small gift – honey or mutton or a fruit she'd never seen before. There would be a hostile peace until the next time. There was always a next time. So when the door was flung open and three guards entered, Astrid had been surprised. They'd spoken to her in their strange tongue, but she knew enough to understand their meaning. _Come with us_ , they said in their own language. Her hand had rested against the obvious swell of her belly – less than three months left, she was in no fit form to fight them. Her heart had raced, her limbs energized, blood coursing rapidly through her veins. If he wanted to see her a second time tonight, then perhaps this was it. Perhaps it was time to reunite with those lost to Valhalla. In a way, the idea comforted her. The child wouldn't fall into _his_ hands. _She_ wouldn't fall into his hands. She would see Hiccup again.

The guards had led her down several sets of stone stairs, cold still from the chill of early spring. Astrid tried to picture Berk at this time of year, snow still heavy on the rooftops, stubborn sprouts forcing their way through hard ground. Even the plants of Berk were made of sterner stuff. She could face the end with defiance and bravery. It would be what she'd expected throughout her life – or at least until she'd settled into the complacency of Hiccup's Berk. Peaceful and safe and warm. Like his smile, gap-toothed and brilliant, green eyes flashing with intelligence. Hic had those eyes, but they flashed with a brightness more akin to hers. Gods, she missed them both so horribly. She missed Berk. She missed her life.

A door had swung open and Astrid's mouth had fallen open. There, on a chair in the centre of the room, was a man. He raised his head, dried blood at the corner of his mouth, his right eye swelling shut, and gave Astrid a cocky grin.

"Found you," he wheezed between swollen lips.

"Eret," she whispered.

 _He'd_ made her watch the interrogation. Blow by blow, fists and lashings, two broken fingers. He gave them nothing but his signature cocky grin, a mocking laugh and the occasional scream of pain. The guards had held her, but she had seen the look on _that man's_ face. His tolerance level was already piqued because of _her_. He'd kill Eret.

Although she hadn't needed to in so long – she'd been resigned not to – Astrid was sent into action. Her foot found the back of the knee of the guard in front of her, sending him off balance as she wrenched on his shoulder and landed her knee in his groin, pushing him into the second guard. It was enough to break free; enough to throw herself in front of the lash that landed painfully on her raised arm. Her eyes had burned with blue flames and _that man_ had smiled at her. Because he preferred it when she fought him. He _delighted_ in it.

Astrid lowered her arm, knowing that it was dangerous to do so, knowing that he could knock her out the way with the flick of his wrist. Knowing that it was _likely,_ given their earlier interlude.

"He won't tell you a thing," she said, her voice surprisingly strong, " _That's_ what loyalty is."

He huffed in amusement and lowered his arm to his side, the leather snaked around her arm cutting in and dragging against her raw skin, blood weeping through linen. She wasn't sure if it was hers or Eret's.

"Loyalty to a dead chief? How nostalgic."

Eret's words had been quiet and wet, his mouth bleeding and tongue swollen. "He's alive."

Astrid knew the message was for her, not _him_ , but he'd heard it nonetheless.

"Alive?" he asked. He laughed and it was louder and larger than Astrid had ever heard before. Not his wheezing chuckle that she'd grown so used to hearing, something more – something manic. He crossed the room in long strides, his cold hand gripping her chin with too much force forcing her to look into watery eyes, crazed eyes.

"Make him talk, my dear. Make him talk or I will make him suffer."

He let go of her, pushing her backward with just enough force that she stumbled against Eret's knee. Astrid whirled around, dropping to her knees and looking up at Eret imploringly.

"Tell him, Eret."

Eret focused on her with bloodshot eyes. His brow had come down and he gave her the tiniest shake of his head.

"Have you—have you talked to him?"

"Messages," he wheezed out upon a weak breath.

"How?"

"Terrors."

She whispered her words so soundlessly that she was sure _he_ couldn't hear. "That's enough."

Eret let out a shaking breath. "Hiccup's alive, Astrid."

That room was no place for smiles, but Astrid couldn't help hers. It felt foreign on her face; the muscles aching from disuse.

But that was yesterday and Astrid had no way of knowing whether Eret still lived. _He_ had promised her in an act of unadulterated kindness to spare Eret. Then he'd taken a lock of her hair and a lock of Eret's and had Eret call the Terror. Astrid had watched the tiny dragon fly toward Berk, shrinking into a speck on the darkening horizon, from the small window of her chamber. Hiccup would come for her and she wasn't sure if that was better or worse than being alone here.

Weaving had never been something that Astrid had taken joy in practicing, despite her mother's insistence that even warriors needed to know how to make clothing, weave blankets, run a household. She'd asked for the loom on a whim, after being tired of sitting in her room and waiting to be summoned for abuse. She'd thought about what she could craft – a rope, a net, something to help her escape – but her talent was limited. She'd made three blankets. She was halfway through another, just from this morning. Her fingertips were red and calloused, aching from the constant contact with the threads.

Astrid was nervous and nervousness didn't suit her. Her stomach flipped with every sound she heard in the halls. Her eyes were constantly flicking to the window. Hiccup – if he was alive as Eret had claimed – would come for her, wouldn't he? Unless… Unless he wasn't _able_ to come for her. Shouldn't he have come weeks ago? Why would he send _Eret_ , of all people? Why would Hiccup _leave_ her here for so long? A cold jolt of dread settled in Astrid's stomach as another option became apparent. Her fingers tightened on the thread, weaving with newfound fervour, as though that could keep the thought from manifesting; as though that could stop the reality of the situation.

Hiccup was dead. Hiccup was dead and Eret had been sent by someone else to rescue her. He was never meant to be caught and when he was, he'd lied in order to buy them time. Hiccup _wasn't_ coming for her after all. _Someone_ was, but it couldn't be Hiccup. Because he'd be here by now, with his Alpha dragon. He'd have come for her already. Her fingers stilled on the loom and for the first time since the night she'd been brought to this room, she cried for reasons other than physical pain. Unshed tears burned her eyes, her breath hitching violently. Hiccup was _dead_. A sound filled her ears, ugly and desperate and _wrenching_. It took her a moment to realize that it was her own anguish. She'd seen him fall and separated from Toothless, how could he have survived? Eret's presence was the strange affirmation that her worst fears had been realized.

Palms pressed against her sticky, tear-drenched face, Astrid curled into herself on her stool. Despair was a lasting thing this time, clinging to her core and twisting her heart. She wanted to stop the tears, to pull herself together and put on that brave face again, but for what? To return to a Berk without Hiccup? To raise his children alone? To act as chief in his stead, until Hic was old enough? Even Astrid wasn't brave enough to face that future.

When the tears had ceased, when Astrid felt like she had no more to give, she lay in her bed feeling numb and hopeless. She closed her eyes and dreamed of a boy with a dragon and a heart of gold; she dreamed of a man with a stubborn brow and a will of iron; she dreamed of Hiccup. In those dreams, Astrid heard a familiar, whistling sound – a sound that once struck fear into her heart; a sound that later filled her heart with joy; the sound of an approaching Night Fury. It was a sound she was beginning to think she'd never hear again. The sound was followed by an explosive burst so realistic that it shook Astrid awake. As her eyes blinked open, she became aware of shouting in the hallways, of the familiar sounds of a torrent of dragonfire.

 _Hiccup_. It was the first thing she thought when she sat up in her bed. Astrid closed her eyes, her skin tight and unforgiving, her mouth tacky from her earlier tears. It couldn't be Hiccup. He was dead. But there certainly was _someone_ riding a Night Fury out there. There was another high-pitched whistle followed by a blast that shook the foundations, raining dust down from the ceiling. The thundering sound of boots against stone echoed through the hallway as Astrid hurriedly pulled herself from the bed. There were more blasts of dragonfire, shaking the edifice, crumbling its structure with shuddering accuracy.

The door swung open and her captor stood in the doorway, his thin smile stretching his face grotesquely.

"Come along, my dear," he said, his voice high-pitched and excited, "He's come for you."

His hand closed around her arm, vice-like and unyielding, as he dragged her from the room. The hallway was alight with activity, soldiers pushing past them, shouting in their alien language. Astrid struggled against his grip, pushing the heel of her hand against his clutching fingers. She tried to plant her feet and pull away, but he gave her a quick wrench forward.

"I would think you'd be happy to see your husband," he quipped.

"You're insane if you think he's actually alive. Eret lied to you."

His footsteps faltered but only for a second. He gave his reedy chuckle and continued dragging her down the hall. "There's a Night Fury," he said, as though it gave all the explanation that she needed.

"Other people can ride Toothless."

He spun her and slammed her back into a wall, another squadron of soldiers rushing past them. Her breath caught with the impact and his beady eyes locked on hers. He shook her once.

"Then why haven't they come sooner? Why would they wait? No. Your husband is very much alive and I am very much interested in what lengths he'll go to in order to save his wife and child."

"I'd rather die than let you near him," Astrid spat.

He smiled, again thin and grotesque. "It may come to that, my dear. It may come to that."

They were moving again, Astrid tripping over her own feet as he sent her launching through the doorway of his chambers. It was a room with which Astrid was well acquainted from many torturous days spent in his company. The view through the large windows of the room allowed Astrid to watch the maelstrom of fire as Berk's dragon riders assailed the encampment, storming against the remnants of Drago's army. He took his place behind his desk, steepling his fingers in front of him, a look of demonic glee on his face.

Astrid kept her attention on the well-coordinated attack of the fort. The strategy was familiar, albeit more recklessly brazen than ever before. Her heart swelled as she allowed herself to _hope_. Remembering her detestable companion, Astrid frowned. His army was struggling against Berk's forces and he was doing _nothing_ when in the past he had such brilliant strategies.

"Why aren't you directing your forces?" she murmured into the window.

He huffed, amused. "My dear Astrid, why would I?"

She looked at him over her shoulder. "You're mad."

He grinned at her. "Admittedly, taking you had never been in the plan, but it was hard to walk away from such a consolation prize once the main treasure had been," he paused to widen his grin, "eliminated."

Astrid blinked at him as his objective became clear for the first time. He didn't _want_ to win. Having Hiccup storm the fort _was_ winning.

"You wanted Hiccup," she whispered.

He laughed, light and wheezing. "You can hardly fault me that."

Astrid shook her head. "You won't have him."

A rattling at the door handle drew Astrid's attention. It was followed by a series of thumps and the sound of muffled voices. She'd been so intent on those sounds that she'd failed to notice when he'd slipped up behind her, the edge of his blade cold and sharp against her throat, his free hand crushing her bicep.

"We shall see, my dear," he breathed in her ear, "We shall see."

There was the tell-tale sound of a plasma blast building before the door flew into the room, the hinges splintering. Two familiar faces flooded into the room.

"She's here!" Tuffnut hollered behind him.

Snotlout gave her a worried glance before turning a scathing glare upon her captor, who pressed his blade against her throat even tighter. Astrid's heart raced and her eyes burned as a familiar figure walked into the room. His armour had been freshly updated and Astrid could see where the adjustments had been made – hastily - to enhance the fit. He was thinner than he should be, but her eyes locked on the metal foot – new and shining and _altered_ again – and she _knew_ it was him. He hadn't removed his mask; he hadn't spoken. Astrid's sigh of relief – a sigh she'd been carrying and holding for almost two months – escaped as a whimper as Toothless pushed his head through the door. Hiccup's hand rested on the dragon's head and he murmured something. Toothless looked up at his friend, large emerald eyes clearly not in agreement with whatever it was that Hiccup had said. Toothless built his blue glow from within and stood firmly in the doorway. If Astrid had to guess, she would say that Hiccup had asked the dragon to leave his side. Toothless clearly wasn't taking the order.

Hiccup turned back to them and cocked his head. _That man's_ breathing had increased in frequency and pace. She heard him chuckle into her hair, ecstatic about Hiccup's presence.

"Your army will lose," Hiccup said.

Astrid's eyes rolled shut at the sound of his voice, the balm to all the pain and hardship she'd endured without him. _Hiccup_.

"I can build another."

"Not if you're dead!" Snotlout shouted.

"Yeah! Not if you're dead!" Tuffnut agreed, shaking his sword at her captor.

Astrid stared at Hiccup, who stood calmly by the door, his helmet still in place. There was a tense moment where the hand on her arm tightened and she winced. It sent Hiccup's shoulders back, his stance tightened.

"Let Astrid go," he said, his voice flat and even.

Her captor snorted into her hair, his rank breath on her neck. For a moment, Astrid thought he'd decided to comply as the blade came away from her throat, but a quick twist of his wrist had the point resting on her belly. All three Berkians started when Astrid gasped and flinched, her teeth catching her bottom lip and holding it, her eyes pleading with Hiccup. Because she knew _he_ would do it. He'd been threatening for weeks and now Astrid and her baby were little more than bargaining chips in whatever larger game he had planned.

Toothless lowered himself to the ground, growling.

"Ah, get your beast under control, Dragon Master. I wouldn't want anything to happen to the baby if I'm startled."

"Hold, Toothless," came the quite response. Toothless retained his aggressive stance, but ceased his growling.

Hiccup walked toward them with balanced steps, his hands empty and palms open at his side.

"I'll tell you one more time: Let Astrid go."

"I see no reason to release my hostage until I get what I want."

The point of the blade pierced through the fabric of her overdress, pricking the skin of her belly. Astrid shifted against him, trembling with effort to stay still. Astrid swallowed and looked to Hiccup. If the blade had still been at her throat, she would have attempted escape. She wouldn't risk the baby.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hiccup replied, not sounding sorry at all.

At this close distance, Astrid could make out Hiccup's eyes through his helmet. He held her gaze and tilted his head ever so slightly to her right. She mirrored his movement as his hand fell to his right side, Inferno blazing to life and whipping past her head, the heat of flames singeing her hair and blistering her skin, the blade at her belly piercing her skin gently before falling uselessly to the ground. The body behind her began to slump, his dead hand tight around her arm. Hiccup reached out to pry those unwanted fingers away, tugging her out of harm's way and tight against his lithe body. The scent of burnt flesh filled the room and Tuffnut rushed past them to retrieve the blade.

Astrid was still reeling from the shock of what had just happened, her fingers curling around Hiccup's thin arms. Thinner than usual. With shaking fingers, Astrid pushed the helmet from Hiccup's face. His face was gaunt, tighter than it should be, an angry red scar marring the right side of his face. But his smile, small and constricted, and his eyes, as green as spring growth and nakedly readable, watching her worriedly – those were _Hiccup_. Her fingers traced the edge of his face and he closed his eyes under her touch, releasing a shuddering breath.

"Took you long enough," she whispered.

"I was laid up for a while," he replied with a wry grin.

Astrid leaned back to take inventory. "At least you're not missing anything this time."

Hiccup's hand ghosted her hair. "Only the most important thing," he breathed, "But I have you back now."

Astrid smiled and this time she didn't even try to stop it.

"Shall we go, milady?"

Astrid glanced back at the body on the ground, one eye missing and the other vacantly staring at the failing ceiling. Her ire piqued, the only regret she had was that it hadn't been her hand that had slayed him; that she hadn't the chance to repay all his _kindnesses_.

"Astrid."

Hiccup's voice was gentle, his fingers tenderly running along her bloodied sleeve. She turned back in time to catch his furrowed brow and the angry set of his mouth. She remembered how she'd come to have those wounds, those stains.

"Eret," she said.

Her voice broke Hiccup from his fixation. "Already taken care of. Ruff's got him."

Astrid snorted. "I'm sure he's thrilled."

Hiccup gave her a sideways grin and caught her hand in his. "Let's get out of here."

Astrid nodded, following him to Toothless and settling on the dragon's back behind Hiccup.

"Alright, bud. Let's finish this and get out of here."

Astrid's arms tightened around Hiccup's waist, her cheek resting on his back, reassuringly solid beneath her. She closed her eyes when Toothless started to run, unwilling to look upon these cold, stone walls any longer. Beneath her legs, she could feel Toothless heating up, ready to release Hel fire upon anyone in their way. She was comforted by Hiccup's steady breathing, by his sharp directions, and even by the resounding roar of Toothless as he commanded the dragons. She opened her eyes only when the chill of the night air hit her face and she felt the lift of Toothless' flight. As the world below grew smaller and smaller, Astrid watched the tenements burn, she watched the Bewilderbeast wreaking icy havoc.

"A Bewilderbeast?" she asked.

"Drago's. It wouldn't leave Berk."

"Will it be back?"

Hiccup shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I doubt it. He and Toothless don't really get along."

He sat upright, his hands busy with something in front of him. Twisting, he handed her a fur cloak. Astrid wrapped it around her shoulders gratefully.

"It's a long ride home," Hiccup offered.

"And longer still to sleep," Astrid mumbled against his back, the furs warming her into drowsiness.

Hiccup's hand closed over her clasped hands around his waist. "You can rest, Astrid. I won't let you fall."

Astrid smiled against him, breathing in the scent of his leather armour and the cold freshness of the cloudy night. The scent of freedom.

"I always knew you wouldn't."


	24. He was twenty-five and she was twenty-five.

He was twenty-five and she was twenty-five. He felt warm and happy for the first time in months. Senses mead-dampened and fluid, Hiccup was dazzled by the flickers of copper and gold that the firelight leant Astrid's pale tresses. Her blue eyes shone with an inner light that had been missing for far too long and her smile was so _startling_ on her face, so _foreign,_ that Hiccup found himself watching her as he had when he was a boy – from a distance, with a pounding heart. He'd been sure - _so sure_ – that he'd lost her; so certain that this _joy_ was gone from her forever.

Across the hall, she laughed boisterously at someone's joke as Hiccup took a slow, meandering turn about the room. His eyes never left her, not even while he engaged in the occasional conversation about the success of this year's harvest, not even to congratulate the grinning groom nor to bless the beaming bride. Harvest was a time of rebirth and Hiccup saw that in his wife. Saw it in her smile and in the familiar but lately unused mannerisms. It was as though she had just slid back into her skin and was clearing out the cobwebs with each gesture.

Hiccup hadn't hoped for this. Not for a long time; not even in his wildest musings. The night they'd returned from the fort, Astrid had stumbled and fallen to the ground when she dismounted Toothless and Hiccup had fallen beside her, ready to carry her to a healer, heart fluttering and stomach whirling. There, on the still frozen ground of Berk, Astrid Haddock wept, pale, scarred fingers digging into the dirt. Hiccup had held her, muttering promises into her hair, pledging her the world and all that was in it. When she'd finally looked up at him, face wet, glistening in a way he'd never seen before, her smile had been one of agony; her arms had closed around his neck with such force that she'd sent him falling backwards, weeping and murmuring his name over and over again. He'd known then that it would be a long and winding path back to Astrid. Things would be different. She'd been changed, perhaps irreparably.

But now, with the warmth of the fire at her back, she was a different woman than the fragile creature he'd brought back to Berk. The scars of her torment remained, etched not only in her skin, but also in her heart and mind. The bruises were long gone, but their memories endured. It was in the hard callouses on her fingertips from sleepless nights of endless weaving, working at the loom that had sat unused and empty in the corner of their hall. She had turned away the axe that Hiccup had made her to replace the one she'd lost. She'd panicked at the sight of it, as though she hadn't been intimately acquainted with battle axes since her youth. As though axe-throwing hadn't been her form of stress relief for _years_.

That had concerned Hiccup the most. The way she'd chosen the loom over the axe. But he'd left that alone, carefully anticipating her needs and acquiescing to her wants. At first, she'd held Hic too closely, tethering him to her side at all times until the boy was restless and angry.

"He has too much of both of us to be kept home all the time, As," Hiccup had said lightly over dinner.

Astrid had turned fierce eyes on him, the tiny flames of anger in them lightening his heart. "And what if he's taken? What then, Hiccup?"

Hiccup's hand had frozen mid-air, mouth open to accept the food on the fork. He'd blinked at her incredulously. This was the woman who had insisted that she follow him into battle four months pregnant, damn all the odds. The girl who had been ready to die when he'd first shown her Toothless. This was _Astrid_ , the most fearless shield maiden in the Archipelago, with _fear_ underlying her angry eyes.

"He won't be taken, Astrid."

It had been an argument then – a futile attempt at convincing Hiccup of all the unsafe boundaries of Berk. Hiccup had countered every argument with a positive example from their own youth. It wasn't until Hiccup had laughed in amazement at her stubbornness.

"Astrid, _we ride dragons_. And we do it without incident."

"If you can call losing your foot without incident."

Her words had come so quickly and so viciously that Hiccup had been struck silent. Astrid's eyes had widened, her mouth falling open. There was an apology there, even if she refused to say it. He could see it in the movement of her throat when she swallowed, in the way she shifted her food around her plate before standing up.

"Hic stays with me," she said quietly.

It was weeks before Hiccup could convince her to let Hic spend time with Valka, or even other children his age. Weeks and many more arguments, ending resolutely with Hiccup's soft words while he rubbed her sore shoulders.

"He was fine without both of us for nearly a month, As. He's not going anywhere."

The truth had reduced her to tears then. Sobbing and gripping at his tunic while his fingers combed through her hair, whispering words of assurance and reaffirming that she was _home_ now.

But that was then and this was now. Hiccup's eyes ran down her form while he leaned against a post, sipping at his mead. Her waist was broader than it had been, the second pregnancy had left her with wider hips and fuller breasts that likely wouldn't diminish once she stopped nursing the baby. Her hair was braided and elaborately arranged on top of her head. She was breathtaking. She was _Astrid_.

It was hard to believe that only a couple of months ago she'd hidden under billowing overdresses, sitting at the loom day in and day out. Hiccup had never had so many tunics; Astrid had enough dresses to last her three seasons even if she never weaved again. And there was no speaking with her when she was at the loom. At times it felt as though it was the only thing keeping her together and that thought disturbed Hiccup. Yet, there was something in the intensity with which she attended to the task that told Hiccup that had made him leave her to her constant weaving, kissing blistered and calloused fingertips each night and bearing the title of The Best Dressed Chief in the Archipelago, which his friends had so kindly bestowed upon him.

She'd been weaving when the baby had come. He'd been writing at the table, Hic sprawled out and snoring across his lap and Toothless curled up by the fire, when he'd heard the surprised: "Oh."

There was Astrid, sitting at the loom with water pooling at her feet. It had been a mad scramble to collect the midwife and there had been some question as to the health of the baby, given Astrid's mistreatment at the hands of their enemy. But Solveig was born in the light of the dying summer sun, the strength of her cries echoing through the village. Her little face was all Hiccup except her eyes, a deep and brilliant blue that watched everything with her father's curiosity and the stubborn low brow of her mother.

The first few weeks were Hel. The first few weeks with a baby were _always_ Hel, but the first few weeks with a baby, a village still in disrepair, and a wife who was not quite herself was _truly_ Hel. There were times at night when Hiccup would wake to the sound of Astrid's weeping only to find her clutching the baby to her with far too much force. The first time it had happened, he was sure the child had passed in the night; that they'd lost her despite her vigour and zest. But after prying Astrid's hands away, he'd found Solveig very much alive and well.

"Astrid, what—"

"She was safer inside," she answered numbly, "I could keep her safe there."

"As," Hiccup had all but whispered, laying the baby down and kneeling between Astrid's knees, "She's fine. You're both safe. I'll never let anything happen to you ever again."

Vivid blue eyes stared at him as she considered his words. It had been the first time that she seemed to accept those words. It had been the first time that Astrid's eyes had seemed clear and sure, like they had _before_. She'd released two shuddering breaths before nodding and returning to bed, curled in his arms and letting him protect her for once.

Her eyes were clear now. They were bright and fervent and _sharp_ now. The truth was Hiccup was afraid to approach her, afraid that should he touch her the illusion would be shattered by the subtle way she'd flinch at the physical contact. She told him about what had happened to her during her months of captivity. The brutality, the manipulation. It was a quiet rage that Hiccup bore, burning in his belly and itching at his hand. While Astrid weaved, Hiccup took to throwing swords at a tree behind their hall. If he could raise the bastard from the dead so that he might have the pleasure of killing him again, Hiccup would have done it in a heartbeat.

Astrid's smiling eyes flicked up and caught him watching. He held his breath as the corner of her lips hitched upward in a teasing half-smile. Astrid had always had the ability to burn him to cinders with her eyes; to reach into his core and set him on fire with want. His fingers tightened around his cup; his free hand curled into a fist.

It had been a long time since they'd been intimate. A long and understandable time with both of their injuries – physical or otherwise – and with the arrival of Solveig. But he couldn't deny that he wanted her. He wanted her now and his imagination ran wild with scenarios. It was a rare thing that they were alone, without the children close at hand. Hiccup had to laugh at himself for that thought. They were hardly alone now, in the bustling Great Hall full with Berkians. Still, he couldn't help but imagine slipping outside, exploring her new curves and softness with curious hands, sinking inside of her.

"She is _your_ wife, you know."

Hiccup's head turned at the sound of the wry, amused voice to find Eret standing next to him, arms crossed and gaze centred on Astrid laughing with the twins. Hiccup took a hasty swig of his mead and Eret laughed.

"Been a while?"

Hiccup frowned and spared an irritated glance at the older man. "Not that it's any of your business, but…yes."

Eret threw his head back and laughed. "You're making it everyone's business, mate."

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? You've been staring at her like she's forbidden fruit all night."

"It's just like we're back in the forge and your fifteen and she doesn't even know your name," Gobber said wistfully from Hiccup's other side.

Hiccup glowered at both of them. "It's not that simple," he muttered.

"Oh, I doubt it is," Eret said, his tone was light, but his expression held seriousness. "But she is your wife."

"You could always ask her to dance," Gobber suggested helpfully, hopping from one foot to the other.

Hiccup rolled his eyes before locking them on Astrid again. She was watching him now, a smile playing at her lips, her brow slightly pinched in amusement. The expression made Hiccup's heart lurch. He wasn't sure he'd ever see it again. He wasn't sure he was seeing it now. He tipped the rest of his mead into his mouth and swallowed the cloying liquid too hard.

Eret clapped his hand on Hiccup's shoulder and gave him a brusque shove. "Go get her, Chief."

Hiccup glowered over his shoulder, but kept his forward momentum going until he was _there_ , mere feet away from her. Her eyes held all the openness and invitation they ever had – in a similar situation a year ago, he would have known what she wanted when she looked at him that way. Now, all he could do was smile hopefully.

"Evening, milady."

Astrid's smile broadened encouragingly. Her eyes flitted over his shoulder and she bit her bottom lip. "What were they saying to you?"

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "Them? Nothing. What would they have to say?"

"Seems like they found it funny," she said, fighting her own laughter.

"Well," Hiccup said, running his hand through his hair nervously, "You know what they say."

"No. What do they say?"

"Uh, they say," Hiccup paused, assuming the ultra-serious face he donned only for impersonations, "'That Hooligan Chief, he's hilarious.'"

Astrid snorted. "Who says that? I've never heard anyone say that."

Hiccup's face fell into a pout. "What? I'm hilarious!"

Astrid pursed her lips, amused. "Oh, sure. A regular barrel of laughs with your uproarious face scar."

She ran her finger down the side of his face and leaned in toward him in a way that made him blush like he _was_ fifteen again. Hiccup closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, he found Astrid watching him with muted concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Hiccup asked incredulously, "Why wouldn't _I_ be okay?"

"You've been watching me all night."

"You could tell?"

She grinned and nodded slowly. "I'm going to let you in on a secret," she said gripping his collar and pulling his head down so she could whisper in his ear, "I could always tell."

For some reason, despite everything that had happened and all they had been through; despite the fact that she had borne _two_ of his children; that they had survived war, however damaged they might be, he felt embarrassment for his lack of stealth.

"Well, that's—"

"I liked it," she said, cutting him off.

Hiccup blinked at her and narrowed his eyes. "You did?"

Astrid grinned and bit her bottom lip, her hands locked on his wrists as she took deliberate steps backward, toward the door. Hiccup was grinning back at her, a goofy, happy expression. Because right now, right here – this was _Astrid_. And she wasn't gone. She wasn't the woman who wept in his arms at night; who could hardly bear to let her children or her husband out of her sight; who sat at a loom for hours and refused to throw an axe.

She paused and Hiccup stumbled into her, clumsy and drunk and _blissful_. Her hands were as skilled as ever when she caught him by the shoulders and turned him into the wall, pressing herself against him so that all he could see and smell and feel was _Astrid_.

"I liked it tonight, too," she whispered, her voice husky.

"I want to touch you," Hiccup blurted stupidly.

"I want you to touch me."

Hiccup's hands gripped at the soft curve of her waist greedily as Astrid's curled around his neck and directed his head down to meet hers. They kissed hungrily – like they were sixteen and it was new and illicit and _wondrous_. It felt that way now, to be _allowed_ to have Astrid again. To touch her and hold her and _feel_ her against his body. Not a fragile shell of the woman she'd once been, but the real thing.

"Astrid," he breathed against her mouth, in between frantic kisses.

"What?" he voice holding a familiar note of impatience.

"How do you feel about axe throwing?"

Astrid pulled back and stared at Hiccup with an expression of utter disbelief so incredibly familiar that made Hiccup want her even more, regardless of her answer. He tugged at the delicious curve of her broadened hips, but her strong fingers on his wrist stayed the motion.

"How do I feel about axe throwing?" she repeated.

"You know what? It's not important. Forget I asked."

"I can't," she said, cocking an eyebrow and pressing herself against him. Her lips pressed against his earlobe, hot and wet. "I could throw an axe right now," she whispered, "It's been too long."

His smile was faint, but genuine because the blue eyes that looked back at him were seeing _him_. They were _here_ and _now_.

"I have an axe for you."

"I know," Astrid murmured against his neck, "But, I don't think it's the kind I'm going to throw."

"Well, I have _two_ axes for you. One you throw and one you—"

"Hiccup."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Hiccup's grin was infectious and earnest. Tilting his head, he brushed his nose back and forth against hers, before moving in toward her mouth. Lips almost touching, he breathed, "I missed you."


	25. She was twenty-five and he was twenty-six.

She was twenty-five and he was twenty-six. It had been snowing for days, thick swaths of dense, wet flakes that coated all of Berk. The village was at a standstill after the first night, the snow piling up outside of homes and within the pathways. The dragons blatantly refused to leave the warmth of their stables, content to stay close to their fires and sleep, which made travel too cumbersome to even attempt. It wasn’t as though the Berkians were unused to heavy snowfall, but this was one of those seemingly unending storms that kept the Vikings locked indoors when they would much rather be out in the world, wreaking havoc.

Astrid, however, was satisfied by the fire, weaving on the loom. She felt a comforting sense of accomplishment for every tunic or dress she completed. It was a mind-numbing task and her speed made her finger ache just enough to remind her that she was alive. Astrid was enjoying the raging blizzard. It kept Hiccup home; it kept the children indoors; it kept them _safe_. Astrid was _content_. Happy. Pleased. She pushed a smile onto her face as the thread bit into her hardened fingertips with a little too much force

Hours passed before Hiccup put down his pencil and closed his notebook. His lips, chapped and rasping against her cheek, shocked her out of her weaving trance.

“Oh!”

Hiccup smiled against her cheek. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t, I just…”

“Were weaving. Yeah, I know. I’m going to bed. Do you want to—“

“The kids?”

Hiccup stifled a laugh. “I put them to bed hours ago, As.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he whispered, hands falling to her waist and lips tracing along her jaw, catching her earlobe, pressing into the sensitive skin of her throat.

Astrid released a strangled moan and Hiccup grinned against her skin again.

“Come to bed, As.”

Astrid smiled, stretching out unused muscles, her hand reaching behind her and burying in his hair, once again too long.

“Okay,” she murmured, “You’ve convinced me.”

Astrid let him lead her up the stairs and into their room. She reveled in his attentiveness as he pressed kisses into her skin while removing her clothing, untying her hair and looking at her like she was a goddess. She hoped that never changed, that Hiccup never lost his wonder in her. He made love to her like she was something special, something precious and Astrid fell asleep clutching his head to her chest and listening to his even breathing, hoping that the storm outside raged on.

oOoOoOo

Hiccup’s pacing - the uneven cant of his steps - broke Astrid from her weaving the next day. She narrowed her eyes at him, watching the concentrated expression on his face, the tiny downturn of his lips, the irritated tightening of his eyes.

“Something on your mind?” she asked dryly.

Hiccup blinked at her and Hic looked up from his drawing, eyes wide. It was as though they’d forgotten she was even there. The feeling came fast and furious, stabbing at her core - irritation, out of nowhere. Astrid tried to swallow the feeling, the instinct to snap at her husband and her child. Her fingers were stinging, so she turned her glare toward them. They were reddening and dry, near to cracking. Astrid frowned, her eyes falling on the pile of tunics and dresses on the floor beside her. How much weaving had she been _doing_? The feeling in her gut sharpened and she wrenched her fingers away from the loom and into her chest. She glanced up to find Hiccup watching her with a furrowed brow, Hic having lost interest in her had returned to his drawing.

“What?” she snapped, instantly regretting her tone.

 Her son’s eyes popped up again, glancing from her to his father. Hiccup’s eyes widened marginally.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging.

Astrid stood up, wiping her palms on her overskirt and walking with determination to the furs where Solveig sat, playing idly with a stuffed dragon that Hiccup had made for her. She looked up at Astrid with wide blue eyes and Astrid couldn’t resist picking her up, hefting her onto her hip and striding around near the window, watching the snow fall.

“As,” Hiccup called softly from behind her.

Her eyes were locked on the mesmerizing motion of the falling snow, flake after flake catapulting downward with a speed she couldn’t quite process. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

His tone was gentle and calm. It was the same tone he used with her when she had nightmares; the same tone he’d used to coax her home when he’d brought her back to Berk. Internally, she was screaming at him to stop. She was telling him that she wasn’t that fragile, that she didn’t need protecting. Not like that, not this _delicate handling_. Astrid spun on her heel, ready to verbalize all those hard thoughts, but the concern on his face killed the words on her tongue. He was only worried about her. She’d given him plenty of reason to be over the last year and a half.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

Solveig caught hold of a loose strand of her hair and tugged. Hard. Astrid hissed in pain and gently reached up to uncurl the baby’s hand from her hair. Before she knew it, Hiccup was there, reaching for Solveig, taking her from Astrid. She didn’t like that either. It was something he did frequently and she understood, she did. After Solveig was born, Astrid hadn’t really been herself. But she was herself now, wasn’t she? She was the person she’d been _before_. He didn’t _need_ to take Solveig from her.

Astrid watched Hiccup cooing at the baby, envious of the bond between father and daughter. A ridiculous, selfish emotion to feel. Jealous and desperate to prove herself an adequate parent, she crossed the room to Hic and forced on a bright smile.

“What are you drawing, Hic?”

Her son looked up at her and frowned, pushing his notebook toward her. The image was a bittersweet one – a woman at a loom, weaving. She knew it was her and that knowledge stung somehow. This was how her son saw her, as a woman who weaved all day long. Astrid spared a quick glance up at Hiccup who was bouncing Solveig gently and watching Astrid with pursed lips, as though he couldn’t quite figure out what to do about her, as though she were a wild dragon that could spew fire at any given moment.

“Who’s that?” she asked, her voice cracking around her words.

Hic looked up at her with solemn green eyes and blinked. “Mommy.”

Astrid smiled at him, reciting words of praise despite the burn she felt in her eyes. As soon as she could, she fled the room, taking the stairs two-by-two and retreating into the bedroom. Even despite Hiccup calling her name; even despite Solveig’s piteous wail. She found herself staring at the bundle of blankets at the bottom of the closet. It was, of course, _not_ a bundle of blankets at all, but the axe that Hiccup had made for her, carefully wrapped and hidden from view. Her fingers itched to hold it, to feel the weight of it in her hands, to swing it and catch the blade on something unforgiving.

She’d tried to handle the axe so many times since her return, but something about the violence of it had made it impossible. Even holding it had turned her stomach, reminded her of the blade sinking into flesh, of the screams of the dying on the battlefield. It reminded her of war. Astrid wanted to forget war. She wanted to eliminate it from her mind permanently.

Eventually, the _need_ she felt passed and she made her way downstairs again to find Solveig sleeping against Hiccup’s chest as he sat next to Hic and murmured encouragement at the boy. Hiccup looked up when she came down and smiled at her. There was no caution in that smile, no reproach. He had simply accepted that this was how things were done with her now.

A muscle in Astrid’s jaw jumped at that thought and she crossed the room to the loom, sitting down in front of it and raising her hands as though she would weave. But her fingers never touched the threads, they just hung in midair, hung in the balance. She had the same feeling that she’d had when she’d held the axe for the first time after so many months. A feeling of wrongness. A feeling of _violence_. Dropping her hands to her sides, she stood up again and paused, hovering in front of the loom for a beat too long.

“As?”

Astrid’s eyes flicked to Hiccup’s and she walked away from the loom. “Anyone hungry?”

“Me!” Hic shouted, waking Solveig who settled into disgruntled whining against Hiccup’s chest.

Hiccup smiled again, easy and undemanding. “I could eat.”

oOoOoOo

The snow stopped on the fifth day. Astrid had known by the haste in the way Hiccup strapped his leg on, speedily and sloppily, buckles jangling.

“You’re going to fall,” she mumbled into her pillow.

He either hadn’t heard her or had ignored her warning and she heard him stumble on the stairs. She’d always be glad that no matter how serious or chiefly or _dangerous_ he’d become, he was still _Hiccup_ at the core.

She opened her eyes to a clear, blue winter sky and waited for the dread to form in her belly. And waited. She sat up and frowned at the bright sky, not because _of_ it but because she didn’t feel _anything_ about it. A clear sky meant Hiccup would rush back into the village and get right back to work; that he’d be _out there_ ; that Hic would want to play outside; that Solveig would want to join her brother. It meant disruption and risk. It upset the balance of their happy home. At least, that’s how these things had felt in the past. That’s how she _should_ feel.

As Astrid dressed herself, still digesting the _lack_ of these familiar emotions, her eyes fell on that bundle of blankets again. She didn’t think it through, didn’t spend any time considering what she was doing before she crouched down and unwrapped the axe. Downstairs she could hear the excited chatter of Hiccup and Hic, and the thumping of the door opening and closing; Solveig stirred in her cradle. Astrid unwrapped the axe and stared at the gleam of the virgin blade. Her fingers closed around the handle, still new and fresh under her hand.

“Astrid!” Hiccup called from downstairs, “The snow’s stopped!”

“That’s great,” she heard herself call down.

Hiccup came barrelling up the stairs bringing a whirl of cold air and clumps of snow with him. His eyes were bright, cheeks rosy and smile big. Astrid stood up and watched him as he moved around the room, wrapping Solveig in her furs and babbling about getting fresh air.

“Be careful with her on the stairs,” she called after him as they disappeared down the stairs and outside.

She could hear him talking to someone outside and followed the sound, taking even steps down the stairs. Astrid didn’t even realize she was holding the axe until she was standing in the middle of the great room, blinking at her loom. Her fingers tightened around the axe handle, the wood squeaking against her skin. There was something about the loom, something lingering in the back of her mind. She remembered how much she’d hated weaving when she was a child. She remembered telling her mother that she would never get married so why should she learn to weave? She _hated_ weaving.

“Astrid! I’m going to have to call a council meeting,” Hiccup shouted too loudly as he came through the door, obviously expecting her to still be upstairs.

He paused when he saw her, head tilted comically, eyes narrowed. He didn’t look concerned, just _curious._

“You’re holding your axe,” he said slowly.

“I want to come,” she said, the words bursting forth unbidden.

Hiccup’s perplexed expression deepened, his eyes narrowing further, mouth pursing to one side. “You want to come?”

“To the council meeting.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened and Astrid knew why. Of course she knew why. She hadn’t been to a council meeting since they’d returned to Berk. She’d barely left their hall unless it was absolutely required. But now Astrid found herself asking _why_. When Hic was a baby, Astrid would strap him to her chest and take her place next to Hiccup at the table; she’d been an active part of the discussions, the decisions. Now she was content to hear about them after the fact, offering then useless advice on how to argue against an unruly Jorgensen.

But that was wrong. She _wasn’t_ content to hear about the decisions that were being made for Berk without her. She wasn’t happy to be locked in their hall, safe and warm and ignorant. Astrid’s gaze flickered to the loom, so unassuming and deceptively _comforting_ by the fire. It was a false comfort. A lie.

“Astrid?”

Hiccup’s voice was uncharacteristically small and it drew her attention. She blinked at him, seeing the boy in the man in front of her, remembering when he was smaller than her, when his face was unmarred and he had two feet on the ground. She saw the question in his eyes – he didn’t need to voice it. He was concerned again and as much as she wanted to tell him not to be, she couldn’t.

Hic came running through the door, but Hiccup caught him by the shoulder and tugged him into the side of his leg. Astrid couldn’t help but grin sardonically at the action. It was though she were dangerous. She _liked_ feeling dangerous. She hadn’t felt dangerous in a long time. But she didn’t want to feel dangerous around her family; she didn’t want Hiccup to feel that he had to protect their children from her. There was a timid part of her that wanted to toss the axe to the ground and run back to the loom, to be _safe_ again. Her fingers tightened around the handle just as Valka came through the door with Solveig. Her eyes were quick and they jumped between Astrid and her son.

“I want to go to the council meeting,” she repeated.

“Okay,” Hiccup replied calmly, slowly.

Astrid didn’t miss the way he pushed Hic toward Valka as he stepped toward her. She half-expected him to press his hand toward her face, palm out. Hiccup paused just out of her reach. The concern on his face had been replaced with thoughtful consideration, his tongue darting out before he drew his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“I just thought you’d want to—“

“What?” Astrid said, daring him to finish the sentence, daring him to smash through the wall she’d erected around herself.

He shrugged and grinned. “Weave.”

Again, Astrid’s eyes fell upon the loom and she scowled. The loom. It felt like she’d been sitting there for half of her life, moving her fingers quickly and smartly between the threads. When _he’d_ first brought her the loom in her little prison room, she’d been so very bad at it. Her fingers had been clumsy, her products uncomplicated and sloppy. It had been a way to keep her hands busy and her mind blank. A way not to think about her situation or the fact that Hiccup was _dead_. Astrid’s eyes flicked back to Hiccup, standing there with melted snow beading on his hair, the slow-healing scar cutting down his face and reminding her that all of this had happened, that he was changed as much as she was.

The loom was a tool to keep her sanity. A method to keep away the thought that she would never see Hic’s face again. She glanced at Hic then, sucking his thumb, a puddle pooling at his feet. The loom had kept her from thinking about what _he_ had wanted with Solveig, with her. They’d been pawns, little playthings to him. He’d wanted Hiccup all along and Astrid and her baby were his consolation prizes.

She hated that man.

She hated the loom.

She hated that they were connected. She hated that there were callouses on her fingertips when it was her palms that should be battle-hardened and ready to handle an axe; already her skin, grown soft from disuse, was screaming against the wood.

She hated that her husband felt he needed to protect their children from her; that he felt he needed to speak to her in soothing tones; that he felt he couldn’t rely on her to have his back. She’d made him do this alone for a year and a half. She’d gone through the motions and been present without ever truly being _present._ She hated that she hadn’t been _available_ to her family.

“As?”

“I hate weaving,” she said, turning and taking a deliberate step toward the loom, “I always have. I hate it even more now. I hate this loom. I hate everything I’ve done with it and I hate everything I’ve missed because of it.”

Astrid paused, her hand raising the axe, her free hand gripping the handle as her stance widened, preparing to strike. “I hate it,” she whispered.

The wood splintered as her axe made contact, spewing shards of wood into the hearth and into her skin. There was a roar, guttural and tortured, that Astrid didn’t full realize was coming from her as she brought the axe down on the loom, again and again, splitting it into nothing. It was a stand-in for the man she never had the pleasure of killing; a symbol of everything that had happened and all she couldn’t change. Her axe came down again and again until it wedged into the floorboard with too much force and Astrid was too worn to pull it back out.

Hiccup’s hands caught her as she slumped to the ground, her fingers sinking into his soft, wet furs. He held her tightly, not at all gently, crushing her into him as though he might lose her if he let her go. He murmured her name into her hair over and over again. Her face was wet with tears she didn’t know she’d released. With a shaking hand, she wiped them away and pushed back against Hiccup’s arms. He loosened them reluctantly, his eyes searching her face desperately. Astrid glanced at the loom, shattered and unrecognizable on the floor and back to Hiccup’s wide eyes, shining with unshed tears.

“I hate weaving,” she muttered.

Hiccup huffed. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“I never want to weave again,” she said vehemently, glaring at the loom bits as though they could put themselves back together.

“I don’t think you _can_ even if you wanted to. Besides, I have enough tunics to last me into retirement.”

Astrid turned back to him, a weak smile on her mouth which widened when she saw him smiling back. She felt lighter; she felt _clearer_. She felt like herself. Not partially, but _fully._ She was _Astrid_ again. The wall that made her hard and cold and distant had shattered with the loom; she was free.

Hiccup stood and offered his hand to her, grinning without caution or concern or _delicacy._

“I believe we have a council meeting to call.”

Astrid’s smile was instant and wide as she reached for his hand, brushing errant flecks of wood from her skirt. She nodded, holding Hiccup’s gaze.

“That’s right. _We_ do.”


	26. He was thirty-five and she was thirty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This will be the last chapter. I'm sorry there's been such a long break. Thanks to everyone who has joined me on this journey. You're all lovely. :)

He was thirty-five and she was thirty-five. He'd been waiting for her return for hours. The day had started as normal as any other, with Astrid early to rise and feeding the children before Hiccup had even managed to put his leg on, let alone clothing. It was the sound of them – his _family_ – that made his heart swell. Hiccup kept expecting the feeling to fade. He kept expecting to experience some sense of _mediocrity_ as the drone of routine settled down upon them. But being a parent was anything but routine. Hel, being chief was not nearly as _unexceptional_ as he had once imagined it would be.

There was always some problem, some new argument to settle, some new document to sign. That might have been what Hiccup liked best about being chief. Every birth, every death, every wedding crossed his desk. He knew more about the population of Berk than he did about what Astrid was thinking some days and he reveled in it. No one could have predicted that for him. No one could have told him how much he would _love_ this common, everyday knowledge.

So, that morning had started much the same as any other morning. He could hear Astrid's soft, even tone cutting through an argument between the girls; he could hear Hic's voice rising, fighting to be heard above the din. The squealing and laughing of his daughters made him smile. What an ordinary sound for such an extraordinary life. When he came down the stairs, the girls quieted and Hiccup wondered when that had happened, when he had become the voice of authority in this house. Astrid grinned at him from the hearth and he smiled back. Then everyone was back to their loud routine, a girl on each arm and Hic trying to show him his notebook across the table. Hiccup made a quick suggestion and his stoic son snatched the book back and started scribbling away in silence.

"We should have named him Stoick," Astrid had whispered to him one night when Hic was small.

Hiccup had laughed. "Hiccup the Stoic. Never thought I'd hear that in my life."

And it was true. Their son was unflinchingly stoic in all things. He had a sharp, inventive mind and a dry, rare humour; pieces of Hiccup and Astrid coming together in unpredictable ways. The girls were another story altogether. Solveig lived up to her name, strong-minded as well as physically strong, she was the top of her class and much to Hiccup's chagrin, extremely handy with a battle-axe. A tiny, strawberry blonde Astrid with a sharp, clever tongue. Un, on the other hand, was one hundred percent _Hiccup_. She was clumsy and small, long auburn hair getting caught in nearly everything. Hiccup had found her taming a Whispering Death when she was three. She'd named him Bitey and he followed her everywhere, somewhat ridiculously. He was under the table then, nudging at Hiccup's ankle.

The house that Hiccup had grown up in was teeming with life in a way he'd never experienced himself. He found he didn't miss the quiet, he only missed the chance to be alone with Astrid. It was a little better now that the children were older, but it was still _difficult_. The last time had been nearly a month ago when he'd been working on something late at the forge – another task difficult to accomplish lately – and Astrid had come by unexpectedly and the interruption was certainly not unwanted.

In all honestly, he was hoping to leave the house a little late that morning, after the children had left for the academy, but Astrid had other plans. He watched her as she filled a basket with trinkets and food.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

Astrid looked up at him and away again, back to the task at hand. "I'm going to make a few stops this morning."

Hiccup walked over and leaned against the counter, glancing into the basket and frowning. "Is that Buckthorn?"

"Gothi asked me to get some for her."

Hiccup frowned again. "You're going to see Gothi?"

Astrid turned then, a smile playing on her lips fondly. She kissed Hiccup on the cheek and pulled him into an easy embrace. "Don't sound so worried. I'm dropping off Buckthorn."

Hiccup's eyes followed her anyway, unable to quench the inexplicable feeling that she wasn't telling him everything. He followed her, absently tailing her movements as she lead Stormfly from her stable behind the house, murmuring and offering the dragon a leg of chicken. Astrid caught sight of Hiccup watching her and grinned at him.

"I'll see you for dinner?"

Hiccup forced a smile back and nodded. He watched her take off, his heart squeezing the way it always did when she flew without him. She wasn't the only one that had been affected by the war and Hiccup always felt better when she was in his line of sight. He watched until she and Stormfly became a speck in the pale grey sky and then he stared some more. She hadn't been feeling well lately. Nothing too concerning, or so she said. Then again, Astrid was never very good at admitting weakness and Hiccup worried for her more than he'd ever verbally admit.

Toothless approached, jamming his nose into Hiccup's hand and bumping into his leg hard enough to send him stumbling. Hiccup grinned at his best friend, his hand falling to his head.

"I don't know, bud," he mumbled, glancing back at the empty sky.

Hiccup didn't see Astrid again until mid-afternoon. It was a fleeting thing, a glance across the town square. Astrid had been coming down the path from Gothi's hut, her face pale and eyes haunted. She froze when she saw Hiccup and he started to cross the square, heart beating faster at the expression on her face. She shook her head once and climbed onto Stormfly's back, launching off into the air. He could have followed. It would have been easy on Toothless. He could have chased her down and dragged it out of her. It's what he would have done when they were younger. It's what he would have done _before_.

But things were different now. Astrid needed space at times and it was evident that this was one of those times. She would be back. She always came back. The knowledge didn't make Hiccup's day any smoother; it didn't stop him from thinking about her, from worrying.

The sun was setting when Hiccup came home, something was brewing in the house, but a quick glance at the stables told him Astrid hadn't yet returned. It was Hic at the hearth, big green eyes locking solemnly on Hiccup as he came through the door. Hiccup smiled as the girls launched themselves at him and he crossed over to the fire.

"Mom's not home?"

Hic shook his head and stirred whatever was in the pot. Hiccup took a long sniff and smiled, his stomach rumbling. "Need any help?"

"No. It's almost done. You're always conveniently walking through the door when all the work is done," Hic replied matter-of-factly, far too precocious for a thirteen year old.

"My apologies to the chef."

Hic looked rather smug, straightening his shoulders in an all too familiar way. "Apology accepted."

Dinner came and went, still with Astrid absent. Hiccup trusted her unequivocally. He knew she could handle herself. But he would never forget that she'd been taken before. That she'd been lost to him once. That she'd been hurt. He tried not to let his worry show as he tucked the girls into their bed and told them a story about Berk's best shield maiden. They'd heard it so many times before, but they still sighed happily when he ended it with: "And her name was Astrid."

"Best mommy in the archipelago," Un supplied.

"That's right," Hiccup smiled, kissing her forehead.

Hiccup passed by Hic's room, smiling affectionately at the leak of yellow light escaping from under the door. He peeked in to find Hic writing in his notebook.

"Don't stay up too late," Hiccup said.

Hic supplied him with a miniscule glare and continued writing. As Hiccup pulled the door shut, he spoke.

"She'll be back, right?" he asked, still writing.

Hiccup nodded with more certainty than he felt. "She'll be back."

The truth was more complicated than what he told his son. She _would_ be back, certainly. It was _Astrid_ , after all. Hiccup just wasn't sure _when_ because she hadn't taken off like this in years. She used to do it all the time when Hic and Solveig were small, when life became overwhelming. Sometimes she'd be gone for days. Sometimes Hiccup would send search parties after her. She stopped when Un was born. It was as though the little monster had somehow corrected something in Astrid, somehow tethered her to their home in a way Hiccup, Hic, and Solveig couldn't. Un had made it all real for Astrid, Hiccup supposed. Maybe she simply wasn't afraid it would all disappear anymore.

But today was different. Something had upset her. Something had startled her into action. Something had driven her from him. Hiccup wrapped his fur cloak around his shoulders and stepped outside. The air was bitingly cold, stinging his cheeks and whipping at his hands. He turned his face up to the clear sky, the stars bright against a blank canvas of darkness. Rubbing his hands together, he whispered:

"Astrid, where are you?"

Hiccup climbed the footholds he'd built into the side of their house and rested himself on the roof, Toothless bounding up the worn perches that had been set in place for him. The dragon curled up beside him and tilted his head at Hiccup as if to express his solidarity. Hiccup grinned.

"Thanks, bud. I hope she gets back soon."

The last thing Hiccup remembered was staring at the bright white glow of the moon, full and omnipresent in the night sky. It comforted him to think that it would light Astrid's way home.

When he opened his eyes next, all he could see was _Astrid_. Crisp, blue eyes lighted by her flight, cheeks flushed and smile wide. She kissed his cold nose and nudged his shoulder as she settled next to him. Automatically, he opened the cloak and wrapped it around her, pulling her into his chest and hugging her to him. Her skin was cold and he shivered from the contact, breathing in the scent of the sea and the wind in her hair. Sleepily, Hiccup pressed his lips to her temples.

"Welcome home," he mumbled.

Astrid shifted, reaching around for something and dropping whatever it was heavily in his lap. She nuzzled her icy nose into his neck.

"I found a new island."

Hiccup frowned as he picked his notebook up from his lap. "You took the map?"

Astrid shrugged, watching him as he flipped the map open. She'd gone south, further south than he'd ever gone.

"You went south," he said absently, tracing the flight path from Berk to the new island that she'd draw onto the map.

Hiccup folded the map back up and closed his eyes, revelling in the loose circle of Astrid's arms around him, hands clasped at his waist. It was so _normal_ , so _ordinary_ , as if she hadn't just flown off for hours without so much as a word. Hiccup felt the stirrings of the anger he _should_ feel, but it wasn't strong enough to take bloom. He was only glad that she was back and that she was safe again. They leaned into Toothless' side, Hiccup's thumb gently stroking across the wind burnt skin of Astrid's hand as he blinked at the stars and listened to the waves crashing against the cliffs of Berk. They didn't speak for a long time, long enough that Hiccup's joints started to ache from the cold, long enough that Astrid finally gave him her reason.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, murmuring the words into his skin and breathing deeply.

Hiccup's lips parted, words lost to him. Because it wasn't possible anymore. After Un - after that difficult and beleaguered pregnancy – Gothi had informed them that this would be their last. That Astrid's body couldn't take another child, _wouldn't_ take another child. It had remained true for almost seven years now.

"What?" he breathed.

"You heard me," Astrid said flatly.

"How?"

"Well, Chief, when a man and a woman—"

"Astrid."

Astrid sighed and pushed herself into his body, her forehead pressing into his jaw. "I don't know. I mean, I _know_ , obviously. But—"

"Is it—Is it going to be okay?"

Astrid chuckled and sighed, her breath warm against his skin. She pressed her lips against the edge of his jaw, grinning. "When is it not with us?"

Hiccup twisted so he could look at her, really look at her. Astrid's eyes were dancing, bright and happy, her smile infectious. Hiccup grinned affectionately and brought her fingers to his lips.

"I love you."

"I know."


End file.
